Drottningu
by DefineNormalitee
Summary: RE-DONE. After the fight at Feinster, Arya discovers she has feelings for Eragon. However, competition can come at you from all sides...
1. Chapter 1

Arya leant over the fire she was building, seemingly intent on her work. But her mind wandered… Eragon was no more than two feet away, and she was hyper-aware of it. Too aware.

_This is ridiculous. _She scowled darkly, casting the flint in her hand away from her as hard as she could. From the corner of her eye, she noticed Eragon look up at her with concern from the book he was reading, but he did not speak. It frustrated her to know that she had hoped he would speak to her, but she also knew that he would not; he probably accounted her bad mood to not being allowed to use magic. Nasuada had forbidden it; she wished for all her spell casters to refrain from the use of magic, as they may be forced into battle at any time and needed their energy. _Pah, _she thought angrily, and abandoned her work along with her resolve not to look at Eragon again.

Eragon was too absorbed in his book to notice her sudden, intense gaze upon him. She smiled; she knew many a man who would give their swords to own a book, and he was given one for free! It amused her to see him so happy with such a simple gift. She would have to get him one, soon-

_Stop this, now, _she thought, angry with herself. _It's bad enough that you keep staring at him… _she groaned, gritting her teeth. Eragon looked down at her with annoyance at being disturbed, which soon changed to confusion as he caught her staring at him. "Is something wrong, Arya?"

She carefully composed her facial expression into one of calm and composure. "No. Nothing."

He paused for a moment, obviously confused, but nodded and returned to his book. _It must be a good one, _she smirked, observing the joy on his face. She watched him for several minutes, regarding his face changing. She hastily looked away as his expression turned to pure horror, and it was so comical that she had to look away, biting her lip lest that she should laugh out loud and be discovered staring.

_Lady Arya?_

Arya jumped as Saphira's tentative mind touched her blatantly and dangerously open one. She hastened to close her mind, cursing herself for dropping her guard so much.

_Yes, Lady Brightscales?_

_Are you feeling quite alright?_

Saphira showed her a vision of herself, watching Eragon with a strange expression on her heart shaped face. Arya cringed as she acknowledged that the dragon had been watching her for several minutes, now.

_Yes, perfectly fine._

Saphira blinked her great, blue eyes, and continued to watch her. Then: _Arya, would you please rouse Eragon for me? I cannot reach his thoughts- he is intent on nothing but that blasted book!_

Arya laughed, and nodded. Relieved to turn away from Saphira's watchful eyes, she got up and strode over to Eragon. Once again, he looked up with annoyance at being disturbed. Once again, Arya watched the emotions on his face… change… but what to? She was transfixed for several moments, her eyes lost in his…

_ERAGON!_

Eragon leaped to his feet, drawing his weapon, as Saphira called his name. Arya struggled not to laugh as he tripped over the book he had dropped moments before and fell to her feet, blinking owlishly. Laugh! Her! Princess Arya, laughing! She would never normally laugh so easily, and she knew exactly where the change lay.

With the boy at her feet.

_Eragon, get away from that blasted book and come scouting with me. I've sat here long enough!_

As Eragon struggled to stand, Arya offered him her hand. He looked at it for a moment, obviously confused, before taking it. As soon as he was on his feet and able to stand, Arya dropped it. She heard him exit the tent, but said nothing…

_Oh, no._

-x-

_Where are we going, little one?_

_Anywhere you like!_

With a roar of delight, Saphira launched herself into the perfectly blue sky. Warriors below yelled and dived out of the way as she moved her giant wings in synchronization to the beating of Eragon's heart.

_To the lake!_

Eragon's fierce joy matched her own as they moved as one across the sky, reveling in the freedom their movements gave them. Eragon laughed as Nasuada pushed her way out of her tent to see what the noise was, knocking over several of her guards.

_Hang on. I want to go and see Nasuada._

With a grumble, Saphira dived to the ground once more. Several of Nasuada's guards yelped and jumped out of the way, but the woman they protected stood her ground and watched the magnificent blue dragon land.

"Eragon, Saphira; to what do I owe the pleasure?" Nasuada called to them, approaching the pair.

"We're on our way to the lake on the mountainside, and wondered if you could spare a moment to join us." Saphira's surprise matched Nasuada's as the words tumbled out of Eragon's mouth.

_Where did that come from, little one?!_

"Um…" Nasuada glanced back into her tent anxiously. Then, with a smile, she leaped onto Saphira's back and clasped her arms around Eragon's waist.

"Fly, Saphira!"

Nasuada's laughter rang out over the sound of Saphira's wings, and Eragon found himself listening intently to the beautiful sound as they made their way to the nearby mountain lake.

-x-

"It looks freezing."

Eragon and Nasuada stood at the side of the wintery- looking lake, debating whether or not to venture into it.

_You cowards!_

Saphira teased them from the middle of the lake, where she had spent the last hour whilst Eragon and Nasuada dipped their toes into the freezing water and shivered on the bank.

"I think we should… get in…?"

Eragon shivered at the thought, but held his chin up and nodded. He held out his hand.

She took it.

They ran, laughing, and threw themselves off the bank into the icy water.

_Far away, she watches. She watches as they tumble into the ice-cold lake and shout in shock. She watches as they laugh, and splash one another. And as she watches, she smiles. Because it is only a matter of time…_

**AN: Well, I hope you like the changes to the first chapter. I haven't changed much, actually: but I have a question for you. Is that last paragraph a little too much? Does it need to go? Do tell, dahling. Ta for now!**


	2. Chapter 2

Eragon woke to the sound of horns.

_Saphira? _He thought, groggily reaching for Brisingr and his clothes. He paused, his pulse racing when he received no answer. _Saphira! SAPHIRA!_

_Quiet, Eragon, _she snapped back, causing him to sigh in relief as he continued getting dressed. _Wait your turn._

When he was emerging from his tent, fully clothed and Brisingr at his belt, Saphira replied at last. This time, her tone was a little softer. _Sorry, little one. Arya was attaching my armour._

Blinking in the bright morning sun, Eragon frowned. Armour? Indeed, when his eyes were accustomed to the light, he saw many men in their armour, running towards the Northern gates, and the war drums began to sound. Groaning, Eragon asked Saphira: _Where are you?_

_Outside Nasuada's tent. Hurry, little one._

Eragon began to run, ignoring all shouts of "Shadeslayer!" and general calls to him as he made his way to Nasuada's tent. Saphira greeted him with a nod as he saw her waiting outside, and he noted how she was already completely clad in her glinting, rustling armour. He smiled in response. His heart battered against his ribcage as he also spotted Arya, her back to him. She scanned the crowd in front of her as he came to a stop behind her. "Where is Eragon?" She asked, a hint of concern tainting her musical voice. He laughed, and she spun around in shock. Yet again, he undiminished beauty knocked the breath out of him; her long, brown, silken hair was loose, and it curled around her heart shaped face, framing it perfectly; her pouting red lips formed an uneasy smile, which Eragon joyfully returned. "Where have you been, Shadeslayer? The battle is about to begin." Eragon opened his mouth to reply, but Nasuada strode out of her crimson tent and the pair looked over to greet her. However, Nasuada wasted no time in early morning pleasantries.

"Has Arya filled you in?" She demanded, buckling her sword to her belt with difficulty. Eragon shook his head, moving forward to complete the task for her. She shifted uneasily, but spoke hurriedly and confidently. "A troop of four hundred approach the Northern gate. Amongst them are archers, swordsmen and spearsmen."

He nodded, stepping back from her. "Are they… can they be killed?"

"We don't know. But we're taking no chances."

She nodded at both him and Arya and made to dispatch, but Eragon caught her arm. Leaning down to speak in her ear, he said; "My lady, I don't think you should be fighting in your… current condition." He indicated her arms, which were still scarred from the Trial of The Long Knives.

She smiled, prising her arm away from him gently. "I shall be fine. Elva has predicted it." Eragon smiled, and turned back to Arya. "Oh, and Eragon?" He turned to Nasuada again, puzzled. "Stay safe." And then she was gone.

An hour later, Eragon and Saphira found themselves once more on the front line of the Varden's troops.

_Here we go again, _Eragon thought. Saphira answered him with a rumbling growl of excitement.

Arya, to his left, remained staring ahead with her keen eyes, never taking her eyes from the advancing forces that threatened to beseech them. Nasuada, to his right, arranged last minute strategies and spoke with her troops, but never left Eragon's side. All around him were men, Elves, Urgals and Dwarves. _Just think, Saphira, _Eragon thoughr, _we must be setting some sort of record. Six races fighting under one banner!_

This Saphira acknowledged with a fierce rush of pride. _If only we could persuade the worms and beetles to fight with us, too. Then we would be wiping all records out of existence!_

Eragon laughed, but the sound was shaky and uneasy. Arya looked up at him for the first time since they had arrived. "Be not afraid, Shadeslayer. We cannot fail."

"I am not scared of our failure. I am scared of what we might loose in the process of winning." Arya inclined her head slightly, and resumed her staring. This time, a strange sort of determination crossed over her flawless features. Frowning, Eragon looked ahead once more.

_What is it, little one?_

_Do you know what troubles Arya? She seems so much more… I don't know. But it worries me, nonetheless._

Before Saphira could answer, Nasuada leant across her horse to speak with Eragon. The fierce light of battle was strong in her hazel eyes. "Good luck, Eragon, Saphira, although I know you will not need it."

Smiling, Eragon inclined his head. "Stay safe," he told her sternly.

"I will," she replied simply. Then Arya, from his other side, cleared her throat pointedly, and Eragon faced her.

"Stay safe," she murmured, her piercing eyes holding his as she quoted him in the Ancient language, "Wiol pomnuria ilian."

For my happiness.

Eragon continued to stare at her long after she had turned away. And then the war horns sounded. Once. Twice.

And then, they fought.

It took Eragon a moment to remember where he was; one second, his head was full of thoughts of Arya- the next, they were even more confused than normal by the mass of war cries and the sound of bow strings being released that filled the air.

_Concentrate, Eragon! _Saphira bellowed mentally.

_Sorry/ Let us fly! _He replied hastily, drawing Brisingr. Saphira leapt from the ground with a joyful roar, giving the nearby members of the Varden a momentary advantage as their opponents looked up and cried out in terror at the sight.

Eragon watched the fighting from above as Saphira circled the battleground, occasionally loosing an arrow in the direction of an enemy or dipping to the ground to help a friend in need. About half an hour into the battle, Eragon saw Roran frowning in concentration as he tackled three men at a time. Longing to fight beside his cousin once more, Eragon leapt off a disgruntled Saphira and engaged one of the men fighting Roran. Roran acknowledged him with a quick nod, but never took his eyes from his opponent. When he had felled both of them with two ferocious knocks of his hammer to their heads, he turned to face his cousin, although both men looked to the surrounding fighting, wary. "I make that… nineteen. You?"

"Ha! Four-and-twenty!" Eragon crowed.

Roran opened his mouth to answer, his eyes narrowed, but at that moment Saphira landed before to the two of them. Her eyes glinted angrily.

_What do you think you are playing at? This is not a place for idle chatter and contests! This is a battle ground! _She roared, and swept Eragon off the ground with her teeth, swinging him onto her back. Eragon looked down at his cousin to apologise, shamefaced, but Roran was already engaged. Saphira took flight immediately, beating her sapphire wings furiously.

_Sorry, Saphira. I-_

_Leave it! Nasuada requires your assistance._

A thrill of fear grasped Eragon with those words, and he gripped Brisingr tightly. _What was I doing?! _He wondered. _Making idle conversation whilst my friends suffered! _Shock and frustration swept through him, making him shiver. He surveyed the fighting below him once more; Arya fought ferociously with several men, her long thin sword a blur in the morning light as she twirled, whipping the blade through the air. Eragon felt a pang of worry, but soon dismissed it- Arya was more than capable to deal with the mere mortals below. He almost felt sorry for the men.

As Saphira pressed on, Eragon felt a lone mind fighting furiously against the walls in his head. Panicking, he fought back, but soon abated as he recognised the voice as Blodhgarm's. _About time, _the elf thought, a little testily. _I have been trying to reach you for some time now! Nasuada is in desperate need of help._

_We're on our way, _Eragon assured him.

_Good to hear it, Shadeslayer. _The elf seemed to hesitate slightly, but continued. _Stay safe. For Ar- all our sake's._

A little puzzled, Eragon agreed, shielding his mind once more as Blodhgarm withdrew.

_What was that about? _He asked Saphira.

_I don't know, but we're nearly there. Hold on!_

Eragon gripped Saphira's saddle tightly as she dived towards the ground. From there, he soon spotted Nasuada; her guards lay slain around her, and she was surrounded by a number of attackers. Although she was skilled with the sword, she was no match for all of the ten men that approached her.

With a fierce war cry, Eragon thrust Brisingr into the air. The men below looked up at him in horror, and Nasuada took this lapse of concentration to her advantage, stabbing one man through the chest before he knew what was happening. Eragon leapt off Saphira and stood back to back with Nasuada as Saphira let out a burst of flame in the direction of four of the attackers nearest her; the jet of blue flame blinded the rest of them momentarily, but Nasuada, who had her back to Saphira, lunged forward and plunged her sword into a man's chest, causing him to scream with pain. Eragon hurriedly muttered a spell that would help him to regain his sight and together he and Nasuada disposed of the rest of the soldiers.

Panting, the two looked up at each other, the adrenalin pulsing through both of them clear in their eyes. Eragon offered Nasuada his hand, and she took it. He helped her up on to Saphira, and they flew.

From below, Arya Svitkona watched with dismay as the pair flew away from the battle. Was it just her, or was Eragon's arm clasped much too tightly around Nasuada's waist? She looked away, grinding her teeth.

God help the next mortal that challenged her today…

"Where are we going?" Nasuada yelled above the wind.

"Back to the fight, of course!" Eragon replied. Nasuada nodded, and they grasped their weapons once more. Saphira landed- knocking several men into the air with her wings and tail as she did so- and Nasuada climbed down. She smiled sweetly at her rescuers, despite the danger of their situation.

"Stay safe," she called to Eragon, and ran back into the fray.

**AN: Sorry it's been so long, guys... Really sorry... Meh. Hope you enjoyed it!**


	3. Chapter 3

After the battle, members of the Varden scoured the battle field for survivors and the wounded; Arya was among them. She grasped the hands of those whose wounds she or any healer could not heal, and sang to them softly in the Ancient language. Soon, their grimaces turned to expressions of happiness and peace, and they closed their eyes for the last time. She alerted the Varden's healers to those who would have a chance of survival with her mind, and they sent the unscathed to the battleground to escort them to the healer's tent. This process seemed to last hours to Arya. _It always does._

Normally, the high ranking members in the Varden (Nasuada, Arya, Eragon and others) would meet in Nasuada's tent after a fight, to discuss strategies and survey the cost the battle had had on them, but today several of those people were injured or speaking with their people, so the meeting was postponed. Rather than sit around waiting for something to do, Arya had volunteered her services Nasuada.

Nasuada had seemed all too happy to have her out of the way.

She sighed, rocking back onto her heels and wiping blood from her fingers as she examined the fourth surviving man she had found. _He'll live, _she decided, and contacted the Varden. _I've found another. Send help._

The reply was instant. _Of course, Lady Arya._

There was nothing to do now but wait, she supposed.

-x-

"Eragon! Eragon!" Eragon turned, slightly wary, as his name was called. He inclined his head to Blodhgarm as he approached. "Another survivor has been found. Would you mind…?"

Sighing, Eragon agreed and climbed wearily onto Saphira's back once more. _After this, bed, _she decided. Eragon happily agreed.

Saphira threw herself into the sky tiredly, and they made their way towards the battleground and the survivor.

* * *

It had been five minutes now, and the survivor was getting cold. He frowned and whimpered in pain, no matter how much Arya tried to sooth him. Frustrated, the elf looked up to see where the man's saviour's were, flushing angrily as she automatically looked towards the skies. _Stop that, now, _she berated herself. _Stop thinking about him!_

Grinding her teeth, she looked up once again, only to have her jaw drop as she saw…

_Eragon! Oh no, oh no… _

Taking a deep breath to steady herself, Arya tried to still her frantically beating heart. When that failed, she sighed, and resigned herself to wait for her rescuers.

Saphira landed as softly as she could, and Eragon climbed down from her back. He ran towards the casualty, but stopped as he noticed Arya standing over him, watching Eragon approach. Forcing his limbs to respond, he walked towards the man and his rescuer as calmly as he could.

Behind him, Saphira rolled her eyes.

"Um, thank you, Arya." Eragon lifted the man easily- but not at all gently. His eyes were still on the elf before him. She smiled, and he smiled in response before turning towards Saphira again. Arya's arm caught his, and he turned back to her.

"Thank you." She said simply.

"For what?"

"For staying safe."

Before he could reply, Arya put her hands on his shoulders and kissed him chastely on the lips once before turning and running towards the next man.

**Ten minutes before**

"Um, Blodhgarm?" A timid healer approached the agitated wolf-elf, and he spun around. His lips barely concealed the half formed snarl that rose in his throat. The woman, dressed in a white apron that was stained crimson with blood, shrank back in terror. She pressed on bravely. "We're, um, ready for our next patient now."

Blodhgarm arranged his lips into a smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Of course. He'll be right in."

The healer gave a hurried curtsey and scurried away from him, glancing over her shoulder nervously. Blodhgarm sighed and strode out of the tent, where any survivors were being taken to receive emergency medical aid. Upon leaving the shelter, he looked up at the evening sky. It was quite spectacular, he had to admit: the blue canvas that separated the earth from whatever lay beyond was unblemished, with not a cloud in sight, and skylarks flitted playfully across it, singing joyfully and carelessly. Beautiful as this place was, however, Blodhgarm missed trees. The trees of Ellesmera Forest were in his blood. He needed them, and he needed the magical whispers that held their secrets as the wind breathed through their emerald leaves gently. More than anything, he needed home.

But Blodhgarm was a warrior, and he knew he could not submit to his weaknesses so easily. Shadeslayer and Brightscales needed him- not to mention Princess Arya. No, he knew he must stay.

"Lord Blodhgarm?" The soft hand of his Elvin comrade, Sareal, rested hesitantly on his shoulder. "Are… are you alright?"

"Yes," he replied firmly. Now was not the time to be thinking of home. The hand was removed. Blodhgarm frowned. "But where on earth is Eragon?"

"Does it hurt?"

Roran winced as Katrina peeled the shirt from his aching back, no matter how gentle she tried to be. _I was a fool not to accept Gertrude's offer of bandages, _he was forced to admit, gritting his teeth. Nevertheless, he knew that he had been right to decline; bandages would have laboured his movements and stopped him from moving as quickly as he did. Without bandages, he had been able to move freely, but the scabs on his back from the flogging had cracked open again, drenching him in blood. Now that his armour was off, Katrina had been horrified to note that the scabs, barely healed, had healed over Roran's thin undershirt. Now, she attempted to peel off his shirt without causing him un-nessacery pain.

It wasn't working.

"I should do it quickly, if I were you," Elain, ready at the mouth of the tent with bandages and herbs, advised Katrina. "It will hurt less in the long run."

Katrina nodded and gripped the hem of Roran's shirt with both hands. Tears of her husband's pain welled in her eyes. "Ready, love? One- two-"

Roran gritted his teeth, screwing his eyes up.

"THREE!"

"Where is Eragon?" Nasuada demanded, completing another length of her tent. She had been striding up and down her crimson room since she had returned to it, and had no intention to stop.

Her maid, Farica, stepped forward from where she stood at the edge of Nasuada's bed. "My Lady, I expect he is resting in his tent- as you should be-"

"Farica, I have no desire to rest until I know whether or not Lord Eragon is safe!" The maid hurried back into the corner, her head bowed. Nasuada continued to stride restlessly. Her armour hindered her, and she pulled at it, irritated. Farica stumbled forward to free her from it, then retreated into her corner. Sighing, Nasuada approached the door and leant her head above the wooden frame. _Where is he?_

Then, with a sudden cry of delight that sent Farica running towards her, Nasuada smiled as she spotted Saphira fly across the slowly darkening sky, Eragon perched upon her back. _He is safe! _Nasuada sighed in relief. Soon he would return to her…

"I am so, so sorry, love!" Katrina stroked her husband's tousled hair, her tears dropping silently and steadily onto the nape of his neck. Elain and Gertrude were attending to his back, but he winced all the while. Each wince sent Katrina into a new torrent of grief and anger for Roran. The sight of her loved one in pain made her tears fall ever more freely.

"I am fine, love. Don't trouble yourself," Roran smiled weakly, but in Katrina's eyes it looked more like a grimace. Behind them, Gertrude attended to his wounds as fast as she could, but they would not heal fast enough.

_Where is Eragon?_

Nasuada had changed hurriedly into a dress, and waited for Eragon to return to her. Her patience was wearing thin.

_Where is Eragon?_

Blodhgarm stormed through the camp, ignoring the members of the Varden that stared at him. He made his way to the bank that overlooked the stretch of earth before the Northern gate that had today been their battleground. Upon reaching it, he leaped onto it and his Elvin eyes raked the battlefield before him. It was not hard to spot Eragon; Elvin sight or no, the giant Sapphire dragon that accompanied him was never hard to make out from a distance. Arya stood before him, and the injured man lay in his arms.

Blodhgarm turned to leave, but something held him in his place. His Elvin ears had no trouble on hearing the conversation that took place almost a league away.

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For staying safe."

And then the wolf-elf watched in absolute horror as Arya, Princess Arya, the last heir to his Queen's throne, kissed Eragon, the last free Rider.

For a moment, Blodhgarm remained frozen in shock- as, it seemed, Eragon did also. Then, he regained his wits.

_Sareal? _He thought frantically.

_Yes, Lord Blodhgarm?_

_Contact Queen Islazandi._

He watched the Princess run from Eragon, shock clear on both of their faces.

Tell her it's an emergency.

"My Queen, I…" Blodhgarm sighed and ran his fingers through his midnight-blue fur. The Queen, watching him with hawk-eyes from the small mirror in her tent by which they communicated, frowned.

"I have neither the energy nor the patience to guess your words before you speak them, Blodhgarm, so please; speak!"

Blodhgarm inclined his head. "It is difficult to know… where to begin, Your Majesty."

"Start with the reason why you feel the need to disturb me now, in the middle of the night, with no warning whatsoever and hints of an 'emergency'!"

The elf-wolf flinched, and spoke in a fast, low tone. "You wished for me to report on any… strange happenings whilst here with the Varden. Anything that Arya might not think to mention."

The Queen remained unmoving. With a sigh, Blodhgarm told her what he had seen.

At the end of her spell caster's tale, Queen Islazandi remained as still as a rock. When she forced out her words, they were hurried and urgent; "Fetch Arya."

"Anyone in?" Roran waved his hand in front of his cousin's face amusedly. Eragon blinked, forcing a smile.

"Sorry."

"Hmm… Anyway, how many?" Eragon blinked. "Did you kill? How many men did you kill? I counted mine at at least five-and-sixty."

Eragon frowned. "I thought it bothered you, killing these men? And now you count them like we would crops at the farm?"

Roran's reply was fiery and defensive. "I do what I must, Eragon. I must defend my wife and… child. If that means killing the men who pose a threat to them, so be it! I will defend Katrina."

"Yes, but…" Eragon's frown deepened. "You make a contest out of them! A game!"

"I do whatever I can to make my task easier, Eragon. And if a contest helps me defend my wife, who are you to argue?"

Eragon placed his hand on Roran's shoulder, looking into his brown eyes. "Your cousin," he said softly. "And you would do well to stop this game, now, before you become yet another bloodthirsty warrior."

Roran shuddered at the thought, and nodded. The two cousins lapsed into thoughtful silence as they stared out over the deserted camp that was their home; it was long since past dusk, and finding that neither of them could sleep Roran and Eragon had pulled a bench to where they sat now, observing the stars. Roran, after some time, absent-mindedly bent to the ground and picked up a small pebble. He placed it in his palm and frowned at it in concentration. "Stenr Reisa!"

Nothing happened.

With a growl of frustration, Roran attempted to lift the stone again… and again… and again. When he failed to lift the stone for the tenth time, he lost all patience and cast it onto the ground.

"It's no good! I'll never get it!"

He folded his arms, in such a childlike position that Eragon might once have laughed at; Roran's brow knitted together in agitation, and even his bottom lip stuck out. However, Eragon did not make a sound.

Turning to face his cousin, Roran observed his face with worried eyes. Eragon's eyes stared into the distance, but when his cousin turned to see what he was looking at he saw nothing- only black.

"Hello? Eragon?" Once more, Roran waved his hand in front of Eragon's face. Eragon smiled apologetically and tore his gaze from whatever had captivated it.

"Sorry, Roran. I'm just tired, I suppose." He yawned innocently to prove his point. Roran, however, remained unconvinced.

"No, you aren't! Well, maybe you are, but that isn't what is bothering you, I'm sure of it. Is there something on your mind, Eragon?" Roran watched his cousins face intently and carefully. "Women? Fighting?" Then, remembering their conversation at Helgrind, he spoke softer than ever before; "Arya?"

Eragon flinched and looked away. Roran leaned back, his smugness clear on his face. "Arya," he announced triumphantly. Eragon did not answer. His smugness fading rapidly, Roran gripped his cousin's shoulder and forced him to turn. When Eragon faced him, his eyes were full of despair and hopelessness that Roran had never seen the likes of- not in Eragon's eyes, anyway. "What happened?"

"Nothing."

"I can read you like a book, Eragon!"

"You can't even read!" Eragon countered, hoping to distract his cousin.

"No, but I can tell when you are lying to me. Tell me!"

Eragon sighed in defeat. _It would be nice to tell _someone, he supposed. He looked his cousin deep in his eyes. "You must swear never to tell a soul. Not even Katrina."

Roran nodded, his eyes wide. "I swear."

Eragon told him what had happened.

For a long time, Roran stared into the distance with his mouth wide open.

"Oh."

"Oh," Eragon agreed.


	4. Chapter 4

"My Queen, I…" Blodhgarm sighed and ran his fingers through his midnight-blue fur. The Queen, watching him with hawk-eyes from the small mirror in her tent by which they communicated, frowned.

"I have neither the energy nor the patience to guess your words before you speak them, Blodhgarm, so please; speak!"

Blodhgarm inclined his head. "It is difficult to know… where to begin, Your Majesty."

"Start with the reason why you feel the need to disturb me now, in the middle of the night, with no warning whatsoever and hints of an 'emergency'!" The Queen's voice echoed harshly around the fabric of the tent in which she sat, making the elf-wolf flinch. He spoke in a fast, low tone.

"You wished for me to report on any… strange happenings whilst here with the Varden. Anything that Arya might not think to mention."

The Queen remained unmoving. With a sigh, Blodhgarm told her what he had seen.

At the end of her spell caster's tale, Queen Islazandi remained as still as a rock. When she eventually managed to force her words through her constricted throat, they were hurried and urgent; "Fetch Arya."

"Anyone in?" Roran waved his hand in front of his cousin's face amusedly. Eragon blinked, forcing a smile.

"Sorry."

"Hmm… Anyway, how many?" Eragon blinked. "Did you kill? How many men did you kill? I counted mine at at least five-and-sixty."

Eragon frowned. "I thought it bothered you, killing these men? And now you count them like we would crops at the farm?"

Roran's reply was fiery and defensive. "I do what I must, Eragon. I must defend my wife and… child. If that means killing the men who pose a threat to them, so be it! I will defend Katrina."

"Yes, but…" Eragon's frown deepened. "You make a contest out of them! A game!"

"I do whatever I can to make my task easier, Eragon. And if a contest helps me defend my wife, who are you to argue?"

Eragon placed his hand on Roran's shoulder, looking into his brown eyes. "Your cousin," he said softly. "And you would do well to stop this game, now, before you become yet another bloodthirsty warrior."

Roran shuddered at the thought, and nodded.

_I don't mind, _Saphira interrupted quietly, but the interruption was meant only for Eragon. He ignored her. The two cousins lapsed into thoughtful silence as they stared out over the deserted camp that was now their home; it was long since past dusk, and finding that neither of them could sleep Roran and Eragon had made a dry log their bench and dragged it to where they sat now, observing the stars. Roran, after some time, absent-mindedly bent to the ground and picked up a small pebble. He placed it in his palm and frowned at it in concentration. "Stenr Reisa!"

Nothing happened.

With a growl of frustration, Roran attempted to lift the stone again… and again… and again. When he failed to lift the stone for the tenth time, he lost all patience and cast it onto the ground.

"It's no good! I'll never get it!"

He folded his arms, in such a childlike position that Eragon might once have laughed at; Roran's brow knitted together in agitation, and even his bottom lip stuck out. However, Eragon did not make a sound.

Turning to face his cousin, Roran observed his face with worried eyes. Eragon's eyes stared into the distance, but when his cousin turned to see what he was looking at he saw nothing- only black.

"Hello? Eragon?" Once more, Roran waved his hand in front of Eragon's face. Eragon smiled apologetically and tore his gaze from whatever had captivated it.

"Sorry, Roran. I'm just tired, I suppose." He yawned innocently to prove his point. Roran, however, remained unconvinced.

"No, you aren't! Well, maybe you are, but that isn't what is bothering you, I'm sure of it. Is there something on your mind, Eragon?" Roran watched his cousins face intently and carefully. "Women? Fighting?" Then, remembering their conversation at Helgrind, he spoke softer than ever before; "Arya?"

Eragon flinched and looked away. Roran leaned back, his smugness clear on his face. "Arya," he announced triumphantly. Eragon did not answer. His smugness fading rapidly, Roran gripped his cousin's shoulder and forced him to turn. When Eragon faced him, his eyes were full of despair and hopelessness that Roran had never seen the likes of- not in Eragon's eyes, anyway. "What happened?"

"Nothing."

"I can read you like a book, Eragon!"

"You can't even read!" Eragon countered, hoping to distract his cousin.

"No, but I can tell when you are lying to me. Tell me!"

Eragon sighed in defeat. _It would be nice to tell _someone, he supposed. He looked his cousin deep in his eyes. "You must swear never to tell a soul. Not even Katrina."

Roran nodded, his eyes wide. "I swear."

Eragon told him what had happened.

For a long time, Roran stared into the distance with his mouth wide open.

"Oh."

"Oh," Eragon agreed.

They sat in absolute silence for several more minutes. The only noise that punctuated the cousin's uneasy pondering was the slow and steady rhythm of Saphira's breathing as she lay close by, drifting into a sleep that was not only easy and peaceful but undisturbed by the petty human worries that constantly ate at Eragon's soul. He envied her, watching as her chest rose and fell gently. If only he could drift away from his duties, from the heavy weight that lay upon his buckling shoulders: most of all, from the longing he had to be everything that Roran was- happy, married to the woman that he loved.

This longing grew stronger and stronger until Eragon had to fight against calling out, yelling his pain against the world. It brought a lump to his throat, and grew strong enough that Saphira woke and looked up at him, her blue eyes glistening. _Oh, little one._

"Look!" Roran called abruptly, making Saphira and Eragon jump. They looked in the direction that he was pointing. Immediately, Eragon burst into peals of laughter and Saphira let out a rumbling dragon laugh. Roran blinked at them. "What?"

"Nothing," his cousin chuckled. He made to stand up, to look at it clearly, but Saphira stopped him with a gentle flick of her tail.

_Wait, _she commanded. She reached upwards with her snout and touched the small object.

"Beautiful," Roran, mesmerized, whispered.

They watched together until, eventually, Eragon yawned widely.

"Bed," Roran yawned conclusively.

"Bed," Eragon agreed. The pair rose in unison and strode off in opposite directions. On the way to his tent, Eragon looked up at the object that he and his cousin had spent many minutes watching: a small boat, woven from dry grass and now leaving behind it a trail of glittering star dust, drifted among the stars.

Arya was woken with a hesitant touch to her shoulder. With one shuddering gasp, her eyes flew open and in one smooth, quick movement she had her 'attacker' pinned against the wall of her tent, a knife at his throat.

"Arya Drottningu!" Gasped the elf she had attacked. She released him immediately, sheathing her knife.

"My apologies, Sareal-vodhr. You… I thought…"

"No apology needed, Drottningu," the elf said, massaging his neck. "One can never be too careful in these dangerous times."

"Indeed…" For a moment, Arya sighed, recalling to memory the times when one did not need to carry a sword everywhere they went, or be as careful with their words as they would with a hungry dragon with no other means of food. "Why did you wake me?"

Sareal looked slightly abashed. He averted his gaze, staring at the floor instead of into her emerald eyes.

"Your mother wishes to speak with you."

Arya strode into Blodhgarm's tent cautiously, nodding her head to the wolf-elf whose head turned in her direction when she entered. For some reason unbeknown to the princess, Blodhgarm too looked slightly abashed and ashamed. However, he met Arya's eyes with determination as he greeted her in the traditional Elvin manner.

When Arya had given the expected response, Blodhgarm exited the tent without a glance backward at her. Puzzled, Arya watched him disappear into the darkness before turning to greet the woman who watched her intently from the mirror on the wall.

Her mother.

"Did you not know, Arya," the Queen spoke softly and urgently, "that Blodhgarm saw what happened yesterday on the battlefield before the Northern gate? That he thought immediately- and rightly- to contact me with the knowledge that you, my daughter…" Queen Islazandi paused, at a loss for words. "Are in love with the last free Rider?"

Arya's face hardened, but her heart leapt inside her chest. _I should have thought before I… before I kissed him! Eragon is but a boy! _Thinking this through, Arya would have to admit that she was wrong: Eragon had aged- both physically and mentally- since she had rejected his love at the Agaetí Blödhren. "No, I did not know," she answered finally.

"Obviously." The Queen regarded her only daughter with a firm eye- which Arya met easily with her now cold ones. "Did we not speak of this, my daughter?" The Queen whispered uneasily. "You have changed- you laugh more easily, you smile more easily… you show your emotions more than is nessacery. Emotion is weakness, my child! Emotion hinders us. We need to be able to make objective decisions that do not include out emotions. We need not to offer our opponents our weaknesses on a plate, as you are doing!"

Arya turned away from her mother, but she had to admit that she was right. Love, hate, pleasure, pain… all weaknesses that Galbatorix could use against her. Sensing her victory, the Queen pressed on. "I have seen these changes occur once before, Arya. And that time, it did not end well for any concerned."

_Faolin…_

Arya could not help but let several tears seep from under her closed eyelids- the first and only time she had cried for her lost love. _Stop this, now, _She berated herself, wiping her tears away.

From the mirror, the Queen watched her daughter cry with growing unease and wished that she did not have to remind her daughter of the pain that she had suffered… so recently. However much she wished, a release did not come, so she continued with a sigh. "You must not allow this love to grow."

Helpless to her mother and Queen's demand, Arya nodded. More tears escaped her.

"Swear it."

With a gasp, Arya spoke firmly in the Ancient language; "Wiol ono."

For you.


	5. Chapter 5

The expected meeting of the Varden 'elders' to discuss the recent battle took place early in the morning of the next day. As usual, they met in Nasuada's tent to discuss strategies and the effect the fight had had on them. What was not so normal, however, was that Eragon was the first in the tent.

Ducking through the fabric doorway, Eragon glanced around the tent once before smiling at his liege.

"Eragon," Nasuada smiled gleefully, rising from where she was sat on the edge of her bed. Eragon bowed and approached her. "I trust you are well?" She surveyed him quickly, scanning him for any mark that might indicate the opposite. Her eyes burned as she finally lifted them to his, attempting to read what lay behind them.

"Quite well, my Lady," Eragon replied. "And yourself?"

Nasuada frowned. "Nasuada, Eragon. Call me Nasuada."

The Rider opened his mouth with the intent of arguing, but Nasuada interrupted him.

"I wondered if I might ask you something, Eragon," she said hesitantly, her eyes no longer on Eragon's but rather on the hem of her dress' sleeve, which she picked at. Eragon caught her hand and she stopped.

"Ask me anything. I have no secrets from you," he replied, amused by her apparent nervousness.

"Well-"

"Lady Nasuada!"

The pair broke apart to look at the tent door as Arya, Blodhgarm and Jormondur appeared at it, pushing aside the folds of material. Jormondur limped forward, looking at Nasuada before sitting. When she nodded, smiling graciously, he sat, and Nasuada indicated that everyone else should be seated.

Nasuada took the seat to Eragon's right. Arya took the one to his left.

Queen Islanadi stared into the basin of water her maid had collected moments before. Plunging her hands into it, she splashed her face and rubbed vigorously. She knew that she was trying to erase the events of the night before, and this irritated her; _I am a Queen! I should be able to carry out meaningless tasks without it troubling me for days to pass!_

But the Queen knew that this was no meaningless task; she had broken the heart of her only daughter. And that, to any parent, is never meaningless.

As the Queen stared back into the pool once more, watching the ripples smooth themselves slowly until the basin's surface resembled a glassy pond, she realised what she had to do. It would be easy, for her- for Arya, it would mean more pain... the concept of causing her daughter more pain made the Queen quite uneasy, but she had to do it. To save Arya from herself...

"Bring me Nienna," she called to her maid.

Arya could not concentrate. The words that Jormondur was speaking were of vital importance to the Varden and to the Elves, she knew, but they held no meaning to her. Not when Eragon sat beside her.

_This is ridiculous! _She frowned, and tried once more to cast all thoughts of the dragon Rider next to her out of her head once more- once more, to no avail. With an internal sigh, she succumbed to her thoughts.

_I should not have kissed him, _she thought fiercely- but this time, her anger was enveloped in some sort of grief. She mourned. She mourned Faolin, and all that he had taken to the grave along with him; she mourned Oromis and Glaedr; and most of all, although it sickened her to admit, she mourned the love that she was burdened with. The love that would not grow. Could not grow.

Arya could not help but curse her mother for the decision she had made, but knew that she was right in all that she had said; _emotion weakens us. I would be a fool to let it weaken me- especially in my current position of power. I do it for Ellesmera. _And with that thought Arya fought off a strange rush of fierce pride. It mingled with the grief that she held within her, and she acknowledged that.

_This is who I am. This is what I have to be._

_This is what my mother is! Not I! _She countered herself.

_I will one day be in her position. I will one day have to judge as dispassionately and unpredjudiced as she. Why not save myself the heartache and start now?_

Arya groaned inwardly and wished that she was back in Ellesmera where she belonged.

Eragon fidgeted. Try as he must, he could not concentrate on the speech that Jordomur was giving: he could focus only on the two women on either side of him. Every few minutes, he would glance at each one; both woman and elf focused intently on the speaker, shaming him. They ridiculed him with their proffesionality as he floundered with his personal matters.

_Leave this, now! _He ordered himself angrily. _More desperate matters are at hand than... than a meaningless kiss on the battlefield!_

This revelation left Eragon quite down hearted; was it meaningless? Had Arya really intended for that kiss to be nothing more than a friendly exchange?

_I'm sure it's part of some sort of elf ritual, _he assured his better half, the half of him which did not want to dwell on such trivia when more important things were at stake. But try as he might to convince himself, he was sure that he had not read or been taught anything about Elves kissing one another, even as a symbol of gratitude and friendship, whilst he was with Brom or Oromis.

His worse side, the side that wished to relive and revisit that scene on the battlefront over and over no matter the consequences, gloated at this. Eragon groaned inwardly, and wished that he was back in Palancar Valley where he belonged.

Nasuada itched at the scars at her wrist, wincing as she did so. As important as the speech Jormodur was giving was- well, imagined it was- she could not for the life of her concentrate on it. Not with Eragon next to her. She kept her eyes on Jormodur all the while, and it gave her great satisfaction to note that Eragon kept taking sideways glances at her. He looked at Arya, too, which annoyed her somewhat, but deep down she knew that if this came to a contest for the Rider's love, she would win- of course he was attracted to Arya, the shiny trinket that all men gazed upon. But she was no mere trinket; pretty, yes, but also joyful and wise and, most of all, warm. Not at all like the elf.

She sighed with contentment that she would soon win his heart, and wished to be nowhere else other than where she was.

Jormodur smiled to himself: he could not have asked for a more riveted audience. All four of them stared right at him, there eyes glazed with empathy and enthusiasm as he told them his strategies for the next battle. His chest jutted out with pride and he wished that his wife were here to see him now...


	6. Chapter 6

"Lady Nasuada?" Nasuada turned to face the door of the Aid Tent, where the she was visiting the injured warriors that had fallen during the last few battles. She did this as often as her other duties allowed her to, and often her visits were halted or disturbed by other duties demanding attention- as they were now. The man at the door bowed. "Queen Islazandi seeks an audience with you in your tent immediately."

"Thank you." The man bowed himself out of the tent and Nasuada sighed, smiling apologetically at the soldier she had been conversing with before hurrying out of the tent.

Upon reaching her own tent, Nasuada glanced up at the small mirror that adorned the corner of her bedroom; there, as she had expected, the Queen's image waited. Nasuada curtsied to her, approaching. "Atra esterní ono thelduin."

"Un du evarínya ono varda."

Seating herself before the mirror on her wooden arm chair, Nasuada looked up at the elvin Queen with a smile. "You wished to speak with me."

"Yes. I've decided to add another spellcaster to the force that protects you and the Varden."

Nasuada frowned. "I was under the impression that Blodhgarm and the others were doing a fine enough job of that."

The Queen smiled, but it was not an easy smile that graced her beautiful face. "Yes, they are- this is, for once, not a case of protection but superstition. There are thirteen elves among your forces. You may not have been informed, but thirteen is an extremely unlucky number amongst the elves."

Nasuada nodded. "I see… so when can we expect the new addition?"

A strange expression appeared on her correspondent's face for a fleeting second, but Nasuada's sharp eyes caught it; it was one of relief. "Within one week."

Nasuada nodded once more. "Of course. Well, I really must-"

"Of course," the Queen cut her off. "Thank you." And with that, the image on Nasuada's mirror vanished.

The leader of the Varden stayed frozen in her seat for a minute. Something about that had seemed… odd… she shook it off. After all, the elves were always odd…

_Little one, I am going scouting. Come with me?_

Eragon looked up from the fire that he had been staring at whilst Saphira slept, into her fiery-blue eyes; he glanced away quickly, knowing that if he allowed her to tempt him he could not deny her. And there was something that he really needed to do…

_No… I am tired. Perhaps tomorrow?_

She agreed happily- if a little suspiciously- and made her way to the sparring ring to take off. Nasuada had asked that she only fly in an open area, and not near any of the tent's that littered the Varden's camp: it would be all too easy for Eragon's great dragon to clip a tent pole with one of her large wings, or to knock something flying with the torrent of wind she caused whenever she moved her wings.

Smiling wryly, he watched her out of sight before returning his gaze to the flames that flickered hungrily before him with a sigh. Reluctantly acknowledging the fact that he had to speak with Arya before the night was over, get this all over and done with, he pushed himself off the ground with a throb of nervous excitement and trudged in the direction of Arya's tent.

On the way there, partly to occupy his mind and partly to convince himself that he was doing the right thing, he kept up an endless flow of arguments to support his decision: one, he had to know if the kiss had been a mistake on her behalf, or perhaps a misunderstanding: two, he needed to know where this… event left the two of them, and how their relationship would continue- if at all: three, he wanted- no, needed to know if… if she felt the same way as he did…

With a start, Eragon realized that he was outside Arya's tent. Hesitantly, he raised his hand to knock- but upon what? The door before him was one of cloth, not wood. Lowering his fist and feeling more of a fool than ever before, Eragon cleared his throat awkwardly and said "knock, knock."

No answer. He tried again, but slightly louder.

Still nothing…

With a frown, Eragon squeezed his eyes shut and extended his mind in all directions, searching for the bright spark that was Arya's consciousness. Quite by chance, he happened upon one old, sleeping woman who dreamt of her husband and her past home; a horse that shied away from his mental presence with a nervous whinny, and he also stumbled upon Angela.

_She's by the lake on the mountain side,_ the herbalist informed him. Not bothering to ask how Angela knew who he sought, he thanked her and withdrew from her mind.

_Saphira! _He yelled mentally, scanning the skies with his elf-like eyes: he spotted his magnificent dragon just in time to see her do a loop-the-loop and head straight down towards the ground, her neck and tail artfully positioned in a careful dive. Grinning, Eragon ducked his head and sprinted towards the sparring ring that she was fast approaching.

_Where to? _She enquired him as soon as she had landed and he was clambering onto her back, _and don't you wish to use the saddle? You know what happened last time._

_No, no time! To the lake!_

Saphira grunted her amusement and raised her wings; Eragon pressed his face into her scales and clung to her neck, gripping her with his legs as tightly as he could whilst Saphira leapt off the ground. _Don't choke me, _she berated him. He loosened his hold marginally.

A few minutes later, Eragon cried out as Saphira angled suddenly into a sharp dive. The wind bit at his face and he felt himself slip, but Saphira soothed him. _Be calm, little one. I will not let you fall._

They landed a few moments later in the glade that was just a hundred meters or so away from the mountain lake that he and Nasuada had once visited together. Saphira took to the skies once more as soon as Eragon was a safe distance away. He did not questioned her as she flew away from him.

As he walked nervously towards the lake and, hopefully, Arya, Eragon began to question his motives once again. What if she didn't want to see him? What if- and Eragon shook with the thought- she was bathing?! _Maybe I should just call Saphira and wait at the camp, _he decided. He was already turned halfway back towards the way he had come when he stopped in his tracks, spellbound.

Song, beautiful, melodic music drifted through the forest and enticed Eragon through the trees. The song was sung in the Ancient language, and although he did not understand all of it, the haunting melody brought a tear to Eragon's eyes. The hairs on the back of his arms and neck stood up. Arya was singing.

She must have heard him approach from where she stood on the water's edge, but she made no move to turn as Eragon pushed aside the last of the branches that separated the two of them and stepped out into the open air. He never took his eyes from her perfectly still form.

When her song ended, Arya stared out over the water before Eragon spoke. "That was… beautiful. Is there a translation?"

Without introduction, Arya sang:

"_Oh what wonderful treasures laid out for the wise;_

_Richest in value and Glorious in prize,_

_More precious than diamond's on Prince's brow;_

_More wealthy than royalty can bestow."_

Eragon, too, stared at the smooth surface of the dark, deep water. With a sigh, Arya tore her gaze from the lake and faced him.

"Good evening, Shadeslayer."

"And to you, Arya Drottningu."

Arya ambled over to a nearby fallen tree and seated herself gracefully- in this moment, she reminded Eragon more of a princess than ever before. She indicated that he should sit beside her, and he hurried to do so. He tripped over a tree root in the process and fell toward the dry ground; at the last moment, Arya caught him, and for a few moments, Eragon's face was mere centimeters from her own.

Unable to stop himself, he pressed his lips to hers.

**AN: Hope you liked it! Love as always xxx**


	7. Chapter 7

Roran strode through the camp urgently, his mind a million miles away. He broke into a quick run. His destination was the tent of Nasuada. His intentions of this visit- to find out where his cousin was.

When Roran skidded to a halt in front of the cloth home of his leader, he saw her stood outside with a grim frown upon her face and her eyes fixed upon the mountain before her.

"My Lady?"

Roran's hesitant voice made Nasuada, turning to face him at once, jump: when she saw him, she smiled forcefully.

"Ah, Roran. What can we do for you?"

"I wished, my lady, to ask if you knew the whereabouts of my cousin."

The smile slid from Nasuada's scowling face, and she turned away from him. "He is on the mountain." She told him in a flat tone. Roran, confused at her displeasure, bowed and made to back away. "With _Arya._"

Roran's eyes widened, and he followed her gaze upwards in the direction of the mountain side lake, hidden- although he could not see that far- by a small clump of trees.

"_Oh._"

For a few moments- minutes, really- Eragon was blissfully happy. More happy than he had ever been. Because the woman he had loved for so long, the woman who had lead him so far, was finally right beside him.

Kissing him.

And for a few minutes, Arya, too, was joyfully complete. She ignored the nagging voice at the back of her mind- a voice that sounded uncannily like her mother's- and concentrated on nothing but the Rider before her, and how happy she was. Happier than, although it pained her to admit it, she had ever felt- even during her time with Faolin. She swept aside the guilt that suddenly possessed her.

When the nagging voice's murmurs turned to shrieks, she could no longer ignore it; with a gasp, she pulled her lips from those that belonged to Eragon. He wore a delighted smile upon his face, and it broke her heart to know that she must soon be the one to remove such a decadent smile from his handsome face. She did not have to wait: when he noticed her pained expression, the smile slid away quickly and his expression of elation turned to one of worry, fear and outright confusion.

"Arya?" He asked hesitantly, "is something wrong?"

She wiped the pain from his face- he couldn't be allowed to know how much this hurt her- and closed her eyes. It was easier that way. "_This _is wrong."

He did not speak for a long while, but Arya resisted the urge to open her eyes. She could only guess at the emotions that crossed his elf-like face- hurt, confusion, pain…

"Wrong?" His polite tone made Arya wince; in his voice she found only the slightest hint of pain she had feared.

"Yes." Arya did not bother to replicate the Rider's polite tone- instead, she put no emotion whatsoever into her voice, giving it a flat, dead quality.

"How so?" He used the same polite voice, but this time more anger seeped into it. Although his anger stung Arya like a wasp, it made it easier- somehow- for her to hurt him. It hurt her less.

"Just look at us!" She burst out, and fought to control the self-loathing and pain that made her usually silken voice waver. "An elf and a human- that is not right. You should be with one of your own kind."

"You seem to forget, Arya-elda" –the use of Arya's formal name made her cringe- "but I am no ordinary human. I, unlike others among my race, shall live forever. What use is it if I take a mate that is mortal when she should die so long before I? It would only cause me unnecessary heart ache."

_Barzul, _Arya cursed violently. _He is right, of course… _fishing desperately for arguments, Arya countered him weakly. "You could take another wife when the first had died."

"I am not that sort of man, Arya! You know that."

_Yes, of course… the ever virtuous Eragon. _She did not think it harshly- quite the opposite; this quality had been one she had always admired of Eragon, and indeed envied. She pressed on; "I am the only heir to my race's throne. The elves would expect me to take an elvin mate."

This quieted him- as educated as Eragon was, he did not indeed know if this were true. A grim sort of satisfaction swept through Arya when she realized that her victory was near, dulled by the pain that this victory brought her. When Eragon spoke again, he abandoned the polite tone and formalities, allowing his pain to show. "You are the only one I want."

Trying to disguise the flutter of her heart that those words brought about, Arya opened her eyes now, her face as cold as she could possibly could arrange it, and her resolve weakened considerably at the sight of the usually strong Rider stood before her with unashamed tears in his eyes. She looked not into those wet-rimmed eyes but at the trees above his head as she rejected him coldly. "Do I have to remind you that it is not the other way around?"

Her words had an immediate effect; Eragon stumbled backwards, and Arya refrained from weeping as the pain on his handsome, elfish face became almost unbearable. Soon, he regained control of his emotions and his face was as unreadable as Arya's.

"Leave."

"Of course."

Eragon turned and walked without hesitating toward the clearing where Saphira was, at that very moment, landing. Arya waited until he had vanished from sight and she saw Saphira flying far above the mountain to collapse upon the ground. She pulled her knees into her chest and hugged them tightly as tears spilled onto her cheeks. She showed no restraint to the emotions that shook her whole frame as she thought bitterly, _for you, mother._

_Wiol ono._

**AN: Hope you liked it! Now, I've been asked a few questions and I thought I should answer them, so here we are:**

**Are you not going to finish the old Drottningu?**

**YES, but as this re-write, and not the old one. The plot got a little squiffy, so I thought I'd right it :) **

**Why do you change POV so much? And when you do, why do you not make some sort of indication that it has changed?**

**I change because I want to. Savvy? And as for indications, I put a line in between each character change but usually edits them out. How annoying.**

**If you have any more questions, don't hesitate to ask them!**

**Love as always,**

**Arya xxxxx**


	8. Chapter 8

A week passed, but Eragon's mood did not. Most of the time he remained confined to his tent, unless occasion demanded his presence elsewhere; Saphira tried to lure him from his tent with magical words like 'waterfalls' and 'sunsets', and Nasuada- although she understood nothing of his current predicament- enticed him with invitations to parties and dinner for two. He answered questions that were asked of him, and commented on subjects that demanded his attention, but never spoke independently unless circumstance forced him to. Roran visited him occasionally, but for all his courage it terrified him to see his cousin this way. He soon ceased his visits. Eragon did not care.

The only person who did not visit him was Arya.

When Eragon thought of her, it was with confusion and pain; confusion because whenever her name did rise the surface of his mind, his heart still soared when at the same time a hard lump rose in his throat and misery ,twisted uncomfortably in his gut. Pain, because after all they had been through together she still felt the need to reject him so harshly. He thought of her as little as he could, and although he never mentioned the events on the mountain that day to anyone, they seemed to know not to talk of Arya. They spoke to him only when absolutely necessary, and in the quiet, gentle voice that one might use with the sick or dying, never expecting an answer. Again, Eragon did not care.

The only one who did not spare him any sympathies was, oddly, Saphira.

At first, she was gentle and understanding with her Rider, but as time wore on and Eragon's state of mind began to affect her through the mental link they shared she became increasingly frustrated and severed their mental link as often as convenience allowed; it saddened Eragon to see her so upset, for he had never felt so alone, but try as he might he could not summon the effort to really care.

One night, after Nasuada had asked the pair to go scouting- a desperate attempt by the leader of the Varden to bond the dragon and her Rider once more- Eragon took off Saphira's saddle without speaking. She made no effort to speak with him, either. However, when he was walking to his tent, nearly at the door, a large sapphire blue foreleg landed heavily in front of him. He looked up at his glorious dragon, his face a picture of surprise, annoyance, and fear. She spoke sadly. _We must talk, Little one._

A thrill of surprise shot through Eragon's veins at the affectionate term, and he almost smiled- she had not used it for so long. _What of?_

_You know that it pains me to see you like this, and I understand perfectly, of course. However, for the good of all our races, and the sake of the Varden, this cannot continue. You must be strong! You are the last free Rider! _She put her head close to his and gazed at him, trying to speak with her eyes. _Without you, the people are nothing._

Eragon tore his brown eyes from her deep blue ones as they filled with tears. She was right, of course. Ducking around Saphira's leg, he headed into his tent, dropped the saddle unceremoniously on the earth floor and flung himself onto his bed without even bothering to undress. It was as if he had been relieved of a great weight; Eragon rejoiced of his freedom, yet a part of him knew that he still loved Arya. But tonight was not the time to dwell on it- he was tired, the result of a week's restless sleeping.

_Thank you, _he murmured to his dragon.

_Sleep now, Little one, _came the satisfied reply.

His problems could wait until morning. For now, Eragon would sleep.

Across the camp that was the Varden's current home, Arya stared up at the canvas roof of her tent from where she lay in her bed as tears filled her glistening emerald eyes. It had been seven days.

Seven days since she had rejected Eragon for her mother; seven days since she had last laughed, sung or spoken freely; seven days since she had started crying herself to sleep each night.

Seven days since she had broken her own heart.

_It wasn't my fault, _Arya thought, rolling onto her side as hot tear rolled down her honey coloured cheek. _If my mother had not… _but she could not finish that sentence. She knew her mother had been right. Emotion- love- was weakness. She had done the right thing.

Hadn't she?

With a groan, Arya pummeled her pillow. She couldn't start _that _debate again… not at this time of night. She was shirking her duties as it was… she was meant to be the ambassador, for goodness' sake! No, this… this moodiness must stop now, no matter how she felt. _This is pathetic. I did the right thing!_

But, strangely, that knowledge did not make her fell any better.

With a sigh, Arya pushed her face into her pillow and wished for nothing more than for sleep to take away her pain.

_They dream._

_They dream of sunshine, of happiness. They dream of laughter and song._

_They dream of a wedding._

_A man- or is it an elf?- waits at an altar, garlanded with sweet smelling roses and other such beautiful flowers. Many people approach the waiting man- presumably the groom- and they talk and laugh. Soon, music begins to play, and for the first time, the man's happy face turns towards where the dreamers watch._

_It is Eragon._

_Eragon._

_Eragon._

_ERAGON!_

With a yelp, Eragon tumbled out of his bed and onto the floor. He sat up, rubbing his eyes, and saw Saphira's head a few feet from him, pushed through his open tent door. _Why did you wake me? _He thought, pushing himself off the floor.

_That was the most peaceful I've seen you in_- she did not want to say, but they both knew exactly how long it had been since the Rider had last slept peacefully-_ an age, _she commented happily. _I did not wish to wake you, but I thought you should know._

_Know what? _Eragon reached for Brisingr out of habit, fastening the sapphire sword onto his leather belt. Saphira withdrew from his tent awkwardly.

_A new elf is soon to arrive! She will be here in little more than an hour._

_Really? _Exiting the tent, Eragon closed his eyes and let the morning wind wash away his worries. It was as if he had awoken from a deep sleep- everything seemed new and exciting, now. He smiled; Saphira's pleasure filled his mind as she looked upon his happy face. He placed a hand on her scaled shoulder and opened his eyes, gazing into hers. He did not know the words to say, so he told her with his eyes and his emotions.

_I know, little one. I know._

An hour later, a crowd gathered at the Eastern gate to welcome the new arrival. Excitement and gossip spread like wildfire, and for the first time in a week, Eragon joined the people as they laughed and talked. They greeted him with wonder and happiness. Saphira looked on happily.

After a few minutes of searching, Eragon sought out his cousin. Roran was surrounded by villagers from Carvahall, and they laughed and watched as he spoke animatedly. Katrina stood proudly by his side. Her hands caressed the small bump protruding from her stomach. Try as he might, Eragon could not force his way through the crowd. Instead, he hovered at the edge of the throng and tried to catch his cousin's eye. When he did, Roran stared into his eyes with unspeakable brotherly love and joy; noticing their entertainer's distraction, the villagers turned to see what occupied him. Gasps and whispers filled the air. Without thinking, Eragon pushed through the crowd and hugged his cousin as tightly as he could. Roran returned the embrace just as fiercely. Emotions and unspeakable words filled the pair. For the first time since Garrow had died, Eragon felt that he really and truly belonged.

"It's stupid, really," commented Eragon on the villager's reaction to his sudden reappearance when he and his cousin broke apart. "I've only been… away for a few days, yet they all react as if I had died and come back to life!"

Roran shook his head. "Aye, but you are a Rider now. We common folk are under the belief that you are immune to everything." Eragon laughed, but Roran watched his cousin closely. "Even heartache."

Eragon stopped laughing, uneasily meeting his cousin's eyes. Roran opened his mouth to speak, but Eragon burst out, "Don't."

Roran closed his mouth and nodded. Eragon would have like to continue their conversation, but at that moment Saphira informed him that the elf was in sight. He grinned apologetically at Roran, who nodded. They hugged again and Eragon darted off to find Saphira.

When he did, he saw that next to her was Nasuada. Going to stand in between the two, he said, "Lady Nightstalker."

Nasuada started- intent on watching the elf on the horizon. "Eragon!" she burst out, and threw her arms around his neck. Eragon returned the embrace awkwardly, a little shocked, and Saphira snickered. He deftly stepped out of the hug.

"Hello to you, too."

Nasuada smiled, her blush hidden by the dark colour of her skin.

"I missed you," she murmured. Eragon frowned.

"You speak as if I had gone away."

"Well-"

Nasuada stopped speaking as the crowd behind them fell into utter silence. The elf, with incredible speed, was now no more than a minute away. The crowd, hushed with wonder, watched with rounded eyes.

_She's very beautiful, _Eragon noted with a slight shock. Of course, elves were always pleasing to the eye, but the young Rider had never expected to meet a woman- elf or not- as attractive or even more so than Arya. She had long, raven hair which she wore loose and which flew behind her as she ran. Her brown eyes were the same shade as Eragon's, and were framed with thick lashes. A light flush tainted her honey-coloured cheeks, and her full red lips were curled into a small smile. The men in the crowd had eyes for none but her as she reached the open Gate. Upon catching Eragon's eye, a flash of recognition appeared on her face and she approached him. She wore, as Arya sometimes did, a leaf green tunic and leggings. Upon reaching him, she touched her first two fingers to her lips and said; "Atra esterni ono thelduin."

To which Eragon replied with a small smile, "Atra du evarinya ono varda."

The elf held out her hand in a surprisingly human gesture. Whispers and gasps filled the crowd- amongst several chuckles from the direction of Roran and his friends- and Nasuada fumed as Eragon kissed it. The elf smiled and spoke in her native tongue. "I am Nienna."

Eragon smiled warmly, and the elf returned the expression. Eragon continued to speak in the Ancient language- it pleased him, for some reason. It felt more private, knowing that nobody nearby could understand. "I hope your journey was uneventful?"

Nienna shrugged. "I encountered a few soldiers, but I was able to avoid them. I bring greetings from my Queen- she hopes this message finds you happy."

Eragon frowned at the choice of words. _Shouldn't that be 'well'? _Saphira seconded his confusion. However, before Eragon could say anything their conversation was abruptly interrupted by a quiet cough. Eragon, looking around, saw a smiling Nasuada- yet the smile was obviously strained, and she stared pointedly at Eragon and Nienna's still clasped hands. Eragon went to gently pull away, but Nienna did not release him.

"You must be Nasuada," Nienna spoke in Nasuada and Eragon's tongue now. Nasuada smiled politely. It didn't reach her eyes. "I do most sincerely apologise for this, but my Queen wishes for Eragon to be informed of important issues that concern him. Is there a place where we might speak privately?"

"If these issues concern the Varden, wouldn't it be apt for me to be present also?"

"My Queen's instructions were to speak directly with Eragon, and Eragon only."

Both Nasuada and Nienna still smiled sweetly, but the change in atmosphere was so sudden it was almost visible; the members of the Varden watched in awed silence as their leader sized up the newcomer. Then Nasuada said- a little stiffly: "Of course. However, if any of these messages do concern the Varden, I will expect Eragon to notify me."

Nienna nodded. Her sweet smile never faltered, and neither did she release Eragon's hand. "Of course." Her gaze fell upon one of the guards that stood behind Nasuada, ready to defend their leader at a moments notice. "Ah- would you be so kind as to lead us to a place where we might speak?"

Nasuada stiffened, and the smile slid quickly from her face. The guards looked to Nasuada. "I know nothing of the elves, but in human society we do not order around our superiors guards without permission!"

The Varden watched the scene before them in horror as Nienna's smile grew ever wider. "My _sincere _apologies." She curtsied, and turned to face Eragon. "Perhaps you can take me?"

"Of course," Eragon muttered. He lead Nienna through the crowd by the hand- which she still refused to let go of- and the people remained silent as they parted to let them through. As the pair rounded the corner behind a tent, the last thing Eragon saw of the crowd was Roran and Baldor laughing silently, tears rolling down their faces


	9. Chapter 9

_Last chapter:_

"_Of course," Eragon muttered. He lead Nienna through the crowd by the hand- which she still refused to let go of- and the people remained silent as they parted to let them through. As the pair rounded the corner behind a tent, the last thing Eragon saw of the crowd was Roran and Baldor laughing silently, tears rolling down their faces._

"This will be your tent."

Nienna nodded and pushed aside the cloth door, stepping inside; Eragon took advantage of her distraction to wipe his sweaty palms on his tunic. Laughter erupted from somewhere behind him, and he started. He turned to see Baldor and Roran half concealed behind Eragon's tent, which was nearby, rolling around on the floor with laughter, tears of mirth flooding down their cheeks. They appeared to have followed him here. Eragon made his way back to them, and hissed; "Stop following us like little boys! This is _serious _and _important_!"

His words only made the two laugh harder. He started to run toward them, fists raised, but Nienna called to him. He ignored them when they burst into new peals of laughter and turned to walk into the tent in what he hoped was a dignified manner.

"Sorry about that," he said. She smiled in response, already seated on her bed. She gestured for him to join her, and he did, sitting next to her. Only then did he notice that Saphira had not followed them. _Saphira, where are you?_

The reply was instant. _Remembered me, have you?_ Unmistakable jealousy tainted her voice. Eragon smiled.

_Sorry._

_Hmph._

Pulling his attention, he found Nienna staring intently at him. He blushed, and looked down. "Sorry. Saphira sends her regards."

_Ha! _

Nienna smiled, and turned suddenly business like. Yet again, Eragon was struck by how fast the elves' temperaments changed. "Now," she said, "to business."

Arya awoke with wedding bells ringing in her pointed ears. For a few minutes, she simply lay where she was, perfectly still, staring at the canvas above her head. She knew it would not help her or the elves- least of all the Varden- to stay in bed, dwelling on her strange dream, but she could not force herself to rise. So, instead of getting out of bed and going to meet the Council of Elders as per usual, she

_What could it mean? _She thought, remembering the happiness on Eragon's sunlit face. Happiness she had not seen there in a long, long time… Pleasure filled her as the filled her mind with that image- of Eragon, smiling- and warmth blossomed inside her for the first time in what felt like an age. Even if the image _was _imaginary.

With a jolt, Arya realized that some unknown force was touching her mind- it brushed her consciousness not violently, but… urgently. A little confused, Arya tentatively reached out and recognized Tiama, a young female elf in Blodhgarm's command. She lowered the barriers around her mind, and Tiama rushed to greet her in the ancient language, finishing hurriedly with; _Princess, Nienna is here._

Arya's emerald eyes widened with shock. Nienna was a capricious, cheeky young elf who had served the Queen with her cunning use of magic, fierce tongue and unchallenged use of her blade, Fivain. _What? Why?  
_

_The Queen sent her, Princess Arya. She gave no reason._

Arya nodded absent mindedly before remembering the elf could not see her. _Of course. Where is she now?_

_She and Lord Shadeslayer entered her tent alone some time ago._

Several emotions swept through the princess- confusion, pain…

Jealousy?

She tried to hide them from the elf, but not quickly enough. Tiama bowed respectfully out of Arya's mind as hastily as she could, and the princess could focus fully on the issue at hand.

_Nienna and Eragon. In a tent._

_Alone!_

Anger filled Arya's mind, obliterating sensible thought. She snatched up her sword and strode out of the tent. The humans she passed fell silent as she walked by, scurrying out of her path like rodents. Anger radiated from her every pore.

Soon, after minutes of walking, she had to admit that she did not know where Nienna's tent was: with a growl, she sat on a nearby bench and put her head in her hands.

_Arya?_

Saphira's buzzing mind touched the Princess' frustrated one.

_Brightscales, _Arya welcomed her. _Do you know where I can find Erag- Nienna?_

Yes, Saphira growled, her displeasure clear in her tone. _He is in the scarlet tent that is two down from his._

_Thank you, _Arya said, standing tall.

_Thank _you, Arya thought she heard Saphira hum smugly, but before she had time to ask, the Dragon withdrew.

"…and the poor thing had to be fished out with a net!"

The leaf-green tent filled with the musical tinkling that was Nienna's laugh as Eragon finished his tale. He did not laugh; rather, he grinned and watched her, thinking how alike to Arya she was…

When Nienna stopped laughing, she smiled at him. "Tell me about you, Nienna."

"I serve the Queen. My mother was Kerria, and my father was Galdor. What more do you want to know?"

Eragon frowned. "There is more to a person than that. What do you enjoy? What are your hobbies?"

This time, it was Nienna's turn to frown. "Well-"

At that moment, before she could answer, the cloth door was ripped aside and in it's place stood a very definitely angry Arya. She stood tall and proud, and moved with a grace which Eragon had only ever seen dancers use. He thought, in that moment, that no one could ever be more beautiful.

"Nienna." Arya abandoned the ancient traditional greetings and spoke coldly. Nienna's smile faded swiftly, and she answered just as coldly.

"Arya Drottningu."

Eragon gulped. "I see you two have met."

Nasuada paced. And as she paced, she fumed. How could she handle herself that way in front of everyone? In front of _Eragon?! _She cringed… Behind her, Jormundur drawled on about something useless. She tried to pay attention, but she could only remember how she had behaved… what she had said! How rude she had been…

_Ugh…_

Nasuada groaned, and Jormundur looked at her with wide eyes. She smiled sadly. "I'm sorry, Jormundur. Could we reconvene another time? I am not quite myself."

Jormundur nodded, and hurried from the tent. When he was gone, Nasuada collapsed into a chair and put her head in her hands. The pacing had made her dizzy, and she couldn't stop going over what she had said… She, the leader of the Varden and the only woman ever to succeed in the Trial of The Long Knives, had _shouted _at a messenger of the Queen Islazanadi! And for what? Nothing.

"My Lady, are you quite alright?"

Nasuada looked up to see Farica, her nurse, standing behind her with a worried expression on her delicate face. Nasuada sighed. "Yes, Farica. I am fine."

Farica relaxed and went back to where she had been waiting. Acting on a mere whim, she called Farica over once more. "Have an invitation sent to Lord Eragon for dinner, please, Farica." At this, the maid frowned and shifted uncomfortably. Nasuada raised her eyebrows. "Well?"

"I do believe that Lord Eragon will be dining with Lady Nienna tonight."

Nasuada froze, and some fire sprung up inside her: not the usual fire that she got when she fought, the sort of bloodthirsty fire that she was so ashamed of, but one ten times greater than that. This was a fire of anger. And if anyone dared to disturb her tonight, there would be hell to pay…

**AN: Thank you for all the amazing reviews. Any questions?**

**LoveMuchly**

**Arya x**


	10. Chapter 10

When she was drugged in captivity- if she had the energy- Arya would dream one of two dreams: the first- if she was lucky- of Eragon. She didn't know of him at the time, but she felt his presence, somehow. In the back of her mind, she'd known that someone was watching her. The second…

A dream of Faolin.

And it was that dream that Arya Drottningu dreamt that night. She dreamt of the night when her world had been so violently, unexpectedly been torn apart, leaving a bleeding hole in her chest where her heart should be.

_Arya works silently at her desk. She has no reason to work, and that is not why she stays here: she's waiting. Faolin hasn't come to visit in days. She's seen him in the corridor, and at council meetings, but he seemed… distant. Guilty, almost. And now, on the eve of their departure with the Dragon's egg, and with the hopes and futures of thousands resting on her shoulders, she needs nothing more than to be with him… to be happy… She pushes her pen away, puts down her scrolls, and stands on stiff legs. Ignoring the protest of her long-inactive limbs- she's been sat at the desk for hours- she stretches, and hurries from her chamber._

_On the way to Faolin's chamber, she reflects on the many happy months they've spent together: him teaching her how to sing the plants and trees into shape, a skill which the Queen had neglected to teach her, deeming it unimportant: her telling him of the stories of her youth, and him listening in disbelief as she told him of her youthful pranks and jokes; and the evenings and nights they'd spent together in their chambers… Arya blushes, although there is no one around to see it. Still, it is a happy blush. She is happy._

_She, the princess of the elves, is in love._

_Oh, the Queen doesn't approve, of course: she assumes that Faolin is distracting Arya from her duties. That may be part of why Arya clings closer to her love: to spite her mother. However, if that is one part, it is a small one. She loves him._

"_Drottningu!" _

_Arya turns to see Amandil, a member of her mother's court, waving at her from down the path she has just walked down. He looks… worried. She smiles. "Amandil. To what do I owe the pleasure?"_

"_I merely wondered, Princess, if you have seen Faolin recently? He did not attend his training this morning," Amandil explains._

_Arya frowns. "Really?" The male elf shakes his head slowly. "That is strange indeed, Amandil-vodhr. I have not seen him in many a day, either."_

_Amandil stares at the beautiful woman before him, a mixture of surprise and worry troubling his normally handsome face. Arya continues._

"_However, I am going now to find him. Would you accompany me?"_

_Amandil nods briefly and the two fall into step with one another. Amandil examines the forest around him, a look of pure wonder on his boyish face, but Arya is much too preoccupied: Where is he? He has not been to training? Why? Many suspicions rage through her overactive mind, yet she pushes them aside. Faolin is her friend. More than her friend. He would not betray her._

_As they approach Faolin's chambers, soft, girlish laughter and deep, manlike chuckles drift towards the pairs ears'. They frown at each other, and Arya pushes the wide door that separates Faolin's rooms from the outside world aside. And suddenly, her world is turned upside down. And behind her, Amandil gasps. And then, she gasps._

"_You!" She screams, pointing. "YOU!"_

Arya sat bolt upright in her bed, gasping, sweat mingling with the salt tears that ran down her face. _Just a dream, _she thought fiercely to herself. _It was nothing but a dream._

But even thinking this, the elf had to admit that it had not been 'just a dream'. That was the night that her life had been ruined. The night she had relived what must have been a thousand times, both in sleep and in consciousness. The night that her happy, smile worn self had become…

This.

She threw the covers from her slender body and padded over to the gilded mirror on her desk. Ignoring the tears and sweat, she examined her pointed face: where once she had seen laugh lines, she saw frown lines. Where what might have been a smile she now sees thin, permanently pursed lips that no longer smiled. And her eyes… she couldn't look at her eyes. The light from them had gone. The sparkling emeralds were flat, green orbs that cried out in desperation. _I wasn't always this way, _Arya thought hopelessly, and forced herself to look again. _Save me!_

But that was what Eragon had been trying to do, she realized. She had been offered a way out of all her pain, all of her misery, and she had ignored it! She had brushed him aside!

But he had been more than an escape route. _I love him, _Arya acknowledged, hating the rush of pain and dull excitement that pierced her defeated mind at those three words. _I love him._

Well, now there was nothing for it. With a sigh, Arya pushed herself out of her tent door and blinked in the darkness. Ignoring the nag of fear that begged for her attention, she took a deep breath and took a single step into the rain. The step fortified her, made her more sure of herself. She took another step. _No turning back now, _she thought grimly. And then she hurried into the darkness, leaving all certainty behind her.

_Last chapter: _"I did the same thing to Arya. I stole Faolin from her…"

Eragon stared at the elf with tears running down her face, sure he had misheard her. "I'm sorry?" He asked, barely managing to scrape little manners from the shocked blot his thoughts had become. Nienna blinked at him.

"I stole Faolin from Arya. I seduced him."

Eragon shook his head, a small smile on his face. "I'm sorry, I don't seem to be hearing you correctly. I could have sworn you said-" and then, Nienna watched with unhappy amusement as something slid into place in Eragon's mind. "Oh," he said. "_Oh."_

"Exactly." Nienna started to cry harder than ever, and through his shock Eragon felt a stab of pity. He slowly and hesitantly moved closer to the sobbing elf and put his arm around her. He stiffened when Nienna leaned into him, but she seemed not to notice. Slowly, he relaxed, allowing her to relax into his arms gratefully. She looked up at him with red rimmed eyes, framed by thick, wet eyelashes. Eragon was suddenly stunned by how close her face was to his. "Thank you," she whispered. Then, a flash of confusion crossed her pretty face. "Do you hate me?"

"No!" Eragon laughed, and Nienna smiled happily.

"Thank you," she repeated.

And her face got a little closer to his.

And closer again, until their lips were touching.

Eragon gasped and put his arms around her, pulling her into his embrace. The slender elf responded enthusiastically. Then-

"You!" Came an angry voice from outside of the tent. "YOU!"

**AN: Blimey, I'm sorry I left it so long. Anyway…**

**Hope you enjoyed it! Thank you to all of my reviewers, especially my 200****th**** reviewer (!!!!) FinnIrishDancer, who is in love with my story. Oh, and please don't punch a baby, Officer Rabbit… lol.**

**LoveMuchly,**

**Arya x**


	11. Chapter 11

Arya lay, once more, on her bed, staring up at the dusty ceiling of her tent. Occasionally, small drops of water fell through and splashed upon her tunic, but she took no notice. She could not thinks of anything- no matter how hard she tried- but _them…_

"_You!" She screams, pointing. "YOU!"_

The Princess groaned as her memories merged into one, indistinguishable dream. A nightmare.

"_YOU!"_

Twice, now. Twice she had had her love stolen from her. Twice. And both times… Nienna.

An unbidden wave of rage swept over her, piercing her very core. She had never been so angry, so bloodthirsty, so…

_Alone…_

_Well, _thought Arya, _I can either sit here and mourn, or get up and help myself._

With a flash of a smile, instant and almost threatening, the elf pushed herself off the bed. She would not give up. She would not let him go.

She would never, ever stop fighting.

-x-

Nasuada, sat in her large oak throne-like chair, sighed. She knew she really should listen to Jormundur, but she was finding it hard to concentrate. Besides, he was so… uninteresting.

"…and the food supplies are slowly diminishing…"

How could she concentrate when her mind was filled with Eragon? _Eragon _had gone into Nienna's tent for 'dinner', and had not come out again until early morning_ Eragon _had left with Arya this morning, and had not been seen since. _Eragon _had not been seen since…

"…and we really should look at the figures- two recruits since…"

_Eragon, Eragon, Eragon…_

"…we really do need to do something, my lady!"

_Eragon, Eragon…_

"My lady?"

Nasuada blinked. Jormundur was staring down at her worriedly with round, innocent eyes. She sighed again. "I agree, of course." Agree to what?! She hadn't been paying any attention! "And I will certainly give it further attention. I suggest a walk in the clear, snowy air." Jormundur brightened, and began to hastily packed his bags of parchment and scrolls. "_Alone._"

The old man seemed to slump slightly, and his lips formed a childish pout. "Very well." And then he strode out of the tent, his chin high in the air.

_It is no use, _Nasuada realised. _I must speak with him urgently. _

_-x-_

"AAAARGH!"

Eragon sat bolt upright in his bed, spitting out the cold, wet stuff from his mouth. Rubbing his eyes, he looked up to see Roran, grinning down at him evilly. In his hand was a ball of snow.

"NOOOO!" Eragon yelled again, ducking as his cousin aimed and fired. The snowball hit the tent with a dull _flop, _leaving a frosty imprint where Eragon's head had been previously. Before Roran could reach for another missile, Eragon tackled him to the ground. The two cousins wrestled for a minute before giving up, laughing and panting.

"Snow!" Roran gasped, pointing outside of the tent. Eragon shrugged- they had seen snow plenty of times in Carvahall. "In _Surda!" _Roran watched with glee as his cousin's eyes widened in delayed surprise. Snow? In Surda?!

"Really?" Roran nodded. "No!" Eragon pushed his way out of the tent, and gasped: the normally green landscape was dusted with a layer of white frosting, which was slowly building. The people of Surda were blinking worriedly at the flakes from inside their tents- they had never seen snow before, living in such a hot country- whilst the people of Carvahall and recruits from other cold regions were laughing and playing in the snow. Eragon, despite his years, felt the sudden urge to join the small boys in their snowball fights, but resisted it. Instead, he turned to Roran. "How?"

"Saphira," Roran grinned, his eyes on Horst, who had armed himself with snow and was glaring playfully at him. "Nasuada decided that we needed a morale boost."

_It worked, _thought Eragon, watching the children play, the mothers laugh, and the fathers wrestle and play fight. He grinned as he saw Saphira stomping through the snow. _How did you do it? _He asked his sapphire blue dragon in awe.

_I don't know. I have told you, I have no more control over my magic than you do over the King. _

Eragon put his hand on Saphira's shoulder, and looked up at her with a smile. _Thank you._

She smiled in her strange, dragon way in response.

"Eragon!"

_Arya, _Eragon thought with a jolt, and turned eagerly to face her. He was met, instead, with a smiling Nasuada, her skirts pulled up slightly so as not to get them damp. "Nasuada," Eragpon greeted her, smiling. A greeting which was soon followed by… a faceful of snow.

"Blech!" He yelled, spitting out the icy substance for the second time in no more than five minutes. "What was that for?"

She just laughed, and threw another snowball at him.

"Right," Eragon pretended to scowl at his liege. This carefree, happy woman was less like the Nasuada he had known to plan meetings and battles, and more like the woman he imagined she would have been had she not taken on her father's momentous role. She smiled happily, but Eragon spotted the steel spark of determination in her eye, and for a moment the Rider wondered what that could mean, before putting it aside. Pretending to bend over to catch his breath, he scooped up a handful of snow and pelted it at her. It hit her on the leg.

"You'll have to do better than that, Shadeslayer," she called, and leapt away with a glance over her shoulder and a smile. Eragon grabbed some more snow and followed. She lead him away, out of the Eastern gate and through the snowy fields into the nearby woods. There, she turned and launched a hidden snowball at him. It hit him square between the eyes. Whilst Eragon wiped the snow from his face, Nasuada crowed.

"Right," Eragon growled again, pounding his snow into a ball. Nasuada scooped up another handful and they started to circle one another, crouched low.

_Eragon? _Saphira's curious voice filled her rider's mind. _What are you doing?_

_Playing, _Eragon replied gleefully. He showed her an image of him and Nasuada, circling one another as they were doing now. Saphira barely managed to conceal her laughter before she retreated a little from his head, still watching carefully.

Whilst Eragon and his dragon had been talking, the Rider and the woman had grown ever closer to one another. Their faces were nearly touching as they walked in slow circles, each waiting for the other to strike first. _Eragon… _Saphira warned him.

_Don't be such a spoilsport, _Eragon snapped at his dragon, but straightened up with a sigh. "Alright, I give up."

With a triumphant grin, Nasuada straightened. "Ha," she crowed, a smug smile on her face. For the first time, Eragon was struck by her sheer beauty: the curve of her lips as she smiled, the colour of her eyes set against her dark skin, and the way her eyes were framed by thick lashes…

"AAAAAAARRGGGGHHHH!"

Both of them fell to the ground, limbs entangled, as Nasuada knocked the Rider to the ground. As he writhed in the snow, she giggled at him. Reaching out to help him up, Nasuada let out a small "oof!" as Eragon pulled her down beside him. Together they sat, side by side, admiring the view and listening to the laughter of small children that played in the snow.

**AN: I've been asked (yet again) why I'm editing this: because I wasn't happy with the last one, and wanted to start again. Capiche? Good.**

**That is pretty much as far as I got last time, so next chapter should be some really new stuff!!**

**Love as always,**

**Arya xx**


	12. Chapter 12

Eragon awoke with a groan, sheltering his eyes from the bright morning sun light that filtered through his open door. His limbs were stiff from his previous day's playing in the snow, and the birds were singing much too loudly for his liking. He was tired, and did not have the energy to stretch, or even to brush away the remaining fragments of his disturbed, repetitive dreams.

_Or were they nightmares? _Eragon wondered, yawning.

Throughout the night, images had wandered across his troubled and weary mind, each demanding his attention and vying for the spotlight of his mind's eye. Three images: one each of Arya, Nasuada and Nienna.

_Good morning little one!_

Eragon laughed sleepily as Saphira's bright mind touched his, buzzing with happiness at the thought of a new day. _Why are you always up before me?_

_Today I had no choice, _Saphira informed him haughtily. _I was roused by a most persistent individual._

Immediately, Eragon's thoughts flew to Arya. His heart seemed to double its pace. _Who?_

_Nasuada, _came the dragon's amused answer. _She wished to speak with you, but you were sleeping. _

_Oh, _Eragon sighed, disappointed. _Did she give a reason?_

_Yes, actually. She said she had a very important matter to discuss with us, and would be most obliged if we would join with her and Jormundur in her tent._

_Us? _Eragon clarified. Saphira growled her assent. Relief filled the young Rider- it was far too early in the day, and his head was much too cluttered, to speak of matters of the heart. _Of course. Have Blodhgarm inform her that we will be there shortly._

_Yes, your majesty, _Saphira snapped, falling silent. Eragon bit his lip to hide a smile as he reached for his clothes.

A few minutes later, Eragon exited his tent. His sapphire dragon greeted him with a strange dragon smile. Side by side, they turned and strode together in the direction of their leader's crimson tent.

"Eragon!"

The pair turned instantly to see Nienna jogging towards them. Saphira rolled her large, blue eyes and childishly turned her back on the approaching elf. Eragon ignored her.

"Good morning," He greeted Nienna, smiling widely.

"Good morning," Nienna smiled, skidding to a halt at what Saphira considered to be much too close to her Rider. "How are you?"

Eragon opened his mouth to speak, but Saphira interrupted him. _We are late, Eragon. _He glared at his dragon. Nienna, having obviously not heard the exchange, glanced between the two in confusion. Eragon, sighing, explained to the elf where they were going.

"Oh, but that is where I am going, too!" Nienna trilled. "Could I walk with you?"

_No._

"Yes," Eragon said firmly. Nienna smiled, and, taking his hand, began to walk.

-x-

"You are late," Nasuada barked as the three of them entered hr crimson home. Her eyes flew to the entwined hands of Rider and elf, and her heart sank. She had been afraid of this.

"Sorry. We were… held up."

As the pair moved to stand by Jormundur, talking quietly. Nasuada noticed that Saphira was glaring at them. _So she, too, opposes Nienna, _Nasuada realised. _I wonder what she can have done?_

"Good morning, Brightscales."

Nasuada also noticed how Eragon's attention switched instantly as Arya's silk voice drifted through the fabric walls. Nienna, she saw, had also noticed this, and di not look at all pleased.

"I apologise for my lateness," Arya said, stepping into the tent. A small smile graced her lips as her eyes traveled around the room- a smile that became forced when she noticed Eragon and Nienna, side by side.

"My lady?" Jormundur asked quietly, breaking her reverie. "May I…?"

"What?" Nasuada snapped, tearing her gaze from the Eragon, talking quietly to the two women next to him, who were staring in opposite directions, their arms folding. He seemed at a loss of what to do when they did not respond, and descended into silence. "Oh, yes. Go ahead."

Jormundur nodded and cleared his throat importantly. His small audience sighed and sat, resigning themselves to a lengthy speech.

-x-

"…since last month, the Empire have gathere more and more soldiers to…"

Eragon, sat between Arya and Nienna, fidgeted. It was the only way he could keep his mind off the elves that he sat between, and the woman sat opposite them all.

"…we must act, as the Empire could strike the town at any moment…"

The atmosphere in the tent was so thick, Eragon felt that if he had drawn Brisingr, he could have cut a hole in it.

"…we cannot sit and watch idly whilst…"

Yet again, Eragon wondered what he could have done to deserve this: to be sat in between two women that fought night and day, and in front of Jormundur.

"…I cannot stress enough that if we do not help…"

Whatever hell was like, it could not be any worse than this…

"…and the Varden will be under tremendous pressure to uphold its position. Thank you."

_Finally!_

-x-

Nasuada stood, stretching stiff legs as Jormundur sat down, his chest inflated proudly. Arya concealed a yawn. "As Jormundur pointed out, we have received word that the Empire are marching on Ashvasser."

"How many men?" Nienna inquired.

"We are not certain, but our runners estimate one thousand."

Eragon sucked in a deep breath through his teeth. "Are we-" he indicated Nienna, Arya and himself "-all going?"

"No," Nasuada told him, sighing. This had been the part of the meeting she had been dreading. "Only a select few. Eragon, of course, you and Saphira shall be going, along with one other."

"Myself, obviously," Nienna spoke immediately. "I was assigned to the protection of Eragon and Saphira by the Queen."

"As was I," Arya snapped. "And as Ambassador of my race, I believe it is my duty to-"

"Duty!" Nienna burst out. "Where was that duty when you refused to come out of your tent for the week before I arrived?"

"How dare you," Arya hissed, standing. "How _dare _you!"

"How dare I? You neglect your duty when you should be fighting for our Queen and country!"

Eragon, sat between the two fighting women, shuffled his feet awkwardly, looking between the two unhappily. Nasuada raised an eyebrow and leaned against her desk, arms folded, rather enjoying the sight. Jormundur, at a loss of what to do, stared at the ground and tried very hard to become invisible.

Eventually, the rowing had grown so loud that Saphira intervened. Roaring until both women were completely silent, the sapphire dragon stared each of them in the eye until their gazes dropped to the carpeted floor, shame faced. _That is quite enough of _that, she said. _Now, Nasuada- who do you think should go?_

"It is, unfortunately, not in my power to make that decision, Brightscales. However, Blodhgarm sent a message to the Queen earlier this morning and we should be hearing from him at any time."

_Well then, I suggest we discuss strategies until Blodhgarm returns with the agreement, don't you?_

"Of course, Saphira. I apologise for my actions most humbly," Arya said immediately.

"And I," Nienna volunteered.

_Good. Now, I feel that-_

At that moment, Blodhgarm's gentle consciousness touched Nasuada's, who held up a hand to stop the dragon from continuing.

_Well?_

_It is the Queen's wishes that Nienna attends this mission, _Blodhgarm informed Nasuada. She thanked him and he withdrew from his mind. Blinking, she turned to face the small congregation, who all looked up at her expectantly. "The Queen wishes for Nienna to go with Eragon to Ashvasser."

**AN: Well, I hope you don't all hate me now!! I didn't like giving Arya's scene (last chapter) to Nasuada, but it had to be done, I'm afraid. Besides, I have even better scenes planned for Eragon and Arya coming up ;)**

**This chapter is dedicated to The Musings Of A Shaken Mind (who I love very, very much), xLilypadsx (for being all round awesome and a faithful reviewer) and also to Dragons7Cool757 (you can stalk me when ever you want!!). The next chapter shall not be updated until I have fifteen reviews on this one.**

**Love as always,**

**Arya xxx**


	13. Chapter 13

Eragon, under the orders of Nasuada, started preparing for the mission the instant he entered his tent. He got retrieved Saphira's saddle, and healed the few blemishes and marks that it had gained since the battle at Feinster. He took out his armour and sword and stowed them in the saddle bags. Then, after much debate, Eragon also took the book that Joed had give him from underneath his bed and tucked it carefully into the folds of a small blanket, which he also pushed deep into the saddle bags.

Afterwards, with nothing to occupy his hand and mind, Eragon's thoughts wandered. He thought of the dream that had haunted him that night. He thought of Arya, then Nienna, and then of Nasuada. Over and over again, their faces swam before his eyes until he could no longer bear it. Gritting his teeth, the young Rider pushed himself up from where he sat on the edge of his bed and strode out of the tent.

_Where do I go now? _Eragon wondered. Saphira was at the kitchens, eating, so a flight was out of the question. He could have visited Roran, and had made several steps toward the part of the camp in which his cousin stayed when he remembered that Roran had mentioned the night before that he was leaving the next day on a mission many miles away. So, with nothing to do and no one to do it with, Eragon turned on his heel and made to stride back into his home.

_You could go for a walk, _Saphira suggested. _The fresh air will clear your head, if nothing else._

Eragon, half sat down, paused. _Hmm. I have nothing better to do… why not? _He pushed himself up again and exited the tent.

Several minutes into his walk, Eragon had to admit that Saphira had been right: the midday air had cleared his mind and his thoughts no longer wandered. He walked aimlessly, smiling freely at the few he met on his path. On a whim, he turned up the small hillside track on the hill that sat alongside the camp. Small, fragmented clouds drifted across the otherwise unblemished sky, and skylarks danced among them, rejoicing in their happy song.

Upon reaching the top of the hill, Eragon roamed about the small forest that sat atop it, observing the daily activities of the bees and woodland creatures that chirped, buzzed and hopped their way around.

Eragon followed the small forest path until he suddenly emerged into the bright sunshine. Blinking away the tears that formed in his eyes at the shock of light, the young Rider's heart doubled its pace as he realised he was no longer alone: Arya sat on the grass a short way from him, a vision of solitude, observing the perfect day from above.

"Drottningu," Eragon called happily, approaching the silent elf. Turning to face him, a beautiful smile graced Arya's face: such was the magnificence of that smile that Eragon felt his heart pause in its beating as if it, too, wished to stop and stare at the enigma that was the elven princess.

"Eragon," Arya smiled, patting the grass beside her in a remarkably human gesture. Eragon hurried to sit beside her. "A wonderful place to think, is it not?" She gestured to the land below them.

"Beautiful." Eragon did not take his eyes from her. The elf flushed, but did not meet his gaze.

"Are you prepared for tomorrow's mission?" She enquired after a lengthy pause. Her tone was light and easy, but Eragon guessed it took a lot of effort to make it that way.

"I am."

"What I mean to say is" –Arya tore her eyes from the countryside below her as she turned to finally face Eragon- "will you be safe?"

"I will have Saphira and my comrades," Eragon said slowly, puzzled. "I shall be safe enough." The elf nodded, looking away, but she did not seem completely satisfied. Eragon frowned. He reached out and boldly took her chin in his hand, forcing her gently to look at him. "What is it that troubles you?" He asked softly, scanning her eyes in concern. The elf refused to look at him, instead turning her gaze to the ground. "I-"

"Look!" the elf gasped, pointing. Eragon released her face, turning to look where she pointed. His mouth fell open in disbelief when he saw what she had indicated: a small, golden lily had grown amongst the grass.

-x-

_Nienna, _Nasuada hissed mentally, pacing up and down her tent. _It had to be Nienna. But then again… would I have been just as upset had it been Arya? _The leader of the Varden had no choice to conclude that this was so. Still, she was hurt, and the thought did not make it hurt any less. _He will go, and she will ambush him with pretty words and gestures, and he shall forget about me._

Farica watched her Mistress anxiously as she paced back and forth, thinking occasionally to say something before thinking the better of it. When she was in a mood like this, what good would it do?

With a final groan, Nasuada pushed her way out of her tent, seeking out Eragon. She soon learnt that he had ascended the small hill along side the camp several minutes ago, and a cunning smile crossed her face. She would give him reason not to forget her name…

-x-

"Lovely, isn't it?" Arya breathed, moving closer to the small, shining bud. The golden petals shone in the midday sun, and the white metal leaves glistened like teardrops. Morning dew remained on the plant, dripping down the stem and into the soil beneath it.

"Lovely," Eragon whispered, sitting beside her once again. They did not speak for several more minutes, during which Eragon reached out and hesitantly took the elven princess' hand. She did not object.

-x-

Far below, in her tent, Nienna crowed silently. She beamed wickedly as she packed her small pack, not really paying attention to what she stuffed into the small, green bag.

_Soon he shall be mine._

-x-

Arya and Eragon sat in silence for several minutes, staring at the gilded lily and clutching one another's hand. Sighing, Eragon reluctantly remembered his duty and turned his head with the intention of telling the beautiful elf that he would have to leave, and that he was sorry. However, when he turned, he realised with a thrill that Arya's face was much, much closer to his than he had anticipated, and she was staring at him.

Much, much closer.

Eragon swallowed nervously, making a small resolution to extract himself from the area before he could do something he regretted. "I-"

The rest of his words were stifled by the elf's lips.

As Arya's soft lips molded themselves to his, Eragon felt he finally understood the meaning of complete and utter belonging: he pressed one hand to the small of her back, pressing her closer towards him, whilst his other hand was still linked in hers. The elf responded enthusiastically to this movement.

_Eragon._

_Go away, _Eragon grumbled mentally, pressing himself closer to the beautiful elf whose arms were tight around him. Her lips met his hungrily, like a starving man might attack a loaf of bread. He did not mind, though: he needed this just as much as she seemed to.

_Eragon!_

_Shhhh!!_

_NASUADA IS COMING!_

Eragon pulled away from the elf with a gasp. She did not seem to notice; she kissed his face, his neck, his throat, instead of his lips. It took all of Eragon's mental strength to push her away from him gently. She looked up at him in utter shock. "Nasuada is coming," he whispered to her. She gasped, and ran to hide. He began to follow her, but the elf pushed him back.

"No," she hissed. "She will wish to speak with you."

Eragon groaned, and pressed his lips to hers again desperately. She laughed and pushed him again. "Go!"

"Eragon?"

Nasuada's voice echoed through the trees, and Eragon automatically turned to meet the sound. When he turned back, the elf had gone.

"Eragon?"

"Here, my lady."

Eragon forced a smile as the woman stumbled into the clearing. She smiled widely at him, and approached, standing a little nearer than Eragon- or indeed Arya, concealed in a bush not far away, would have liked.

"Where have you been? We have been looking for you," Nasuada smiled. Was it just Eragon, or was her voice too smooth, her eyes too soft?

"Here," Eragon shrugged and gestured to the clearing in which they stood.

"I see. And will you be joining us again soon?"

"No. I wanted a peaceful, quiet walk in the snow, my lady."

Nasuada nodded. "Good. Well… there was something…"

She looked slightly nervous: Eragon took pity on her and smiled encouragingly. "Something I wished to talk with you about," Nasuada burst out. Arya, hidden in the trees, almost growled.

"Go ahead."

"I… well, it is difficult to explain, I…" the leader of the Varden looked up at the rider in desperation. Eragon smiled again.

"Explain however you can, my lady."

"However… I can?" Nasuada frowned. Eragon nodded. "Well in that case…"

Nasuada took a step toward the rider, freezing both him and the elf in the bushes in shock. The woman before him looked up at him, no longer nervous, with the steel spark of determination in her eyes. "I love you, Eragon," she whispered.

And then she kissed him.

-x-

**AN: Ha! Told you I had a better scene for Arya planned! Hope you enjoyed it.**

**The dedication for this chapter is split several ways: firstly, for izlanzadi1995, my seventieth (!!) reviewer. Secondly, for my fiftieth reviewer, AvatarTwilightObsession (I like Twilight, too!!). Thirdly, for , who sent me the longest review I think I've ever had!!**

**Oh, and MarkedBenjamin? Please do not be so rude. I happen to not be planning on doing any of the things you suggested, and never have been. Your review upset me quite a bit- I hate it when people I haven't even met assume things about me. Rant over!!**

**The next chapter shall not be uploaded until I have THIRTY (That's right) reviews on this chapter!!!!**

**Love as always,**

**Arya xxx**


	14. Chapter 14

The Dragon Rider did not move.

Nasuada stood back, head tilted to one side and her heart in her mouth, but still, he did not respond in any way.

Arya watched, too, from the bushes, her body poised as if she meant to stride into the clearing that she watched with avid eyes, but her feet stayed rooted to the grassy floor. She thought it strange that such a young man- barely above manhood- should have such an effect on her. Still, she did not question it, instead concentrating on her current predicament.

Two women, both waiting for the words that would either save or condemn them, watched as Eragon said nothing.

After several minutes- or hours, as it seemed to her- Nasuada plucked up the courage to speak. Her voice shook: Nasuada wasted no energy in trying to conceal her anxiety. "What say you, Eragon?"

The words made Arya jump, and seemed to rouse Eragon from a deep sleep. Shaking his head slightly, the Rider frowned and focused on the woman stood before him. "I'm sorry?"

"What say you?" Nasuada repeated, a slight hint of impatience creeping into her voice.

"I…" he shook his head again, like a dog who had just emerged from deep water. "I'm sorry. I can't. It would be… wrong." Concealed amongst the trees, Arya winced: that was what she had said when she had rejected Eragon by the lake on the mountain that miserable, miserable day.

Nasuada, however, frowned. "What is wrong?"

"This." Eragon gestured between the two of them, indicating that the two of them were a single entity. Nasuada's frown deepened.

"_Why?"_

"Because…" Eragon sighed, choosing his words very carefully. He looked her regretfully in the eye. "Because… I am immortal, Nasuada. If we were to… marry" –Nasuada fought to disguise her delight at the word- "then, soon afterwards- thirty, forty, fifty years from then- you would die. How do you think I would feel to be left alone, with an endless life ahead of me?"

Nasuada winced. "Eragon, I-"

"And then," Eragon continued as if she had not spoken. "There is the matter of duty. Galbatorix would almost definitely use our relationship against me, and how could I do my duty then?"

"Eragon, I love you!" Nasuada pleaded, tears in her eyes. She stepped forwards and took his face in her hands. Arya almost growled at the touch. Eragon prised her hands away from his face and held them in his hands gently.

"Ah, but I do not love you."

Nasuada tore her hands away from his as if she had touched something hot. She took several steps backwards in disbelief. "You… do not… love me?"

Eragon shook his head again apologetically. Nasuada retreated another few steps, and then turned. Upon walking another few steps, Nasuada paused, and Eragon was sure she teetered on the edge of speech. Then, she strode away. Eragon watched her go regretfully.

Arya, meanwhile, had recovered from her shock and from some of her anger, and was ready to emerge from her hiding place, when Eragon turned to her. For a moment, she did not understand the expression on his pain filled face. When she did, the shock that coursed through her was enough to make her stumble backwards and clutch at a nearby Beech so that she did not fall to her knees. For it was not love that haunted the young man's eyes: not shock, nor hate at the interruption.

Instead, an unspeakable apology filled the Rider's eyes.

_I'm sorry, _he thought, having deemed that he could not trust himself to say the words and having gained access to the Princess' mind._ It would not- it could not work. _He sent her several images: of Izlanazadi, and Nasuada, and, finally, himself before he had attended the Agaeti Blodhren: young, free and careless.

Then, or so it seemed to the elf among the trees, he was gone, leaving her alone to heal the hole where her heart should be.

-x-

Eragon stumbled down the hillside path, unaware of where he was going and making no effort to stop the tears that rolled down his face. Members of the Varden stared as he passed them, but he hardly noticed.

_Why did I do that?_

_It was the right thing to do, Little One, _Saphira told him gently. His pain reverberated through his voice. _You did the right thing._

_But it _hurts, Eragon told her, closing his eyes. Several tears seeped in between his lid and his cheek.

_I know. But just because something is right does not make it easy,_

Without realising it, Eragon had made his way to Nienna's tent and was standing on the threshold. Taking a deep, steadying breath, he knocked upon her tent door. The fabric billowed away from his fist, making a pathetic flapping noise. Instead, feeling rather foolish, the Rider cleared his throat loudly. Moments later, a smiling Nienna had pushed aside the fabric and stood before him. Her smile faded quickly as she took in his tears, and she held out her arms to him.

In his mind, Saphira sighed and said in a resigned tone: _As you wish._

_Thank you._

Eragon stepped out of the bright light of the day and into Nienna's arms. As their lips met, he imagined that the elf was not Nienna, nor Nasuada, but wished that she was, instead, Arya.

**The next morning**

Eragon stretched. He rubbed his eyes, ridding himself of the thin layer of early morning dust that ringed his tired eyes. He frowned as he took in the light, filtered through the tent fabric: it was not green, but blue. He stretched again, still stiff. As he did, his hand encountered something smooth, warm and soft. He frowned, and stroked it again. What could it be? It very close, and moved even closer beneath his touch. Peeling off the thin sheets that covered both him and the object, the young Rider gasped.

"Good morning," Nienna purred sleepily.

**AN: Sorry. Sorry it's short, and sorry I did what I did. I know it's mean… I was all set to reward you for your lovely reviews (thirty one!!!) and look how I did it!! Sorry…**

**This chapter (even if they don't want it) is dedicated to Musings Of A Shaken Mind, who helped me a lot with this chapter (and to the sequel- yes, there will be a sequel), and to my one hundredth (!!!) reviewer, Aragon90. Thank you for all the lovely reviews, guys. I love you ALL!!!**

**Love as always,**

**Arya xxx**


	15. Chapter 15

_Well, it could be worse, _Saphira reasoned, stretching luxuriously in the thick, green grass where she and Eragon lounged together in the little shade Eragon's tent provided. Earlier, he had made his escape by bowing out of Nienna's tent as soon as he could with words like 'unfinished packing' and 'business to attend to'. From there, he had fled to Saphira's side and remained there ever since.

_How? _Eragon asked miserably, plucking blades from the grass at random and immediately discarding them onto an already quite large pile.

_I don't know, _Saphira admitted. _It's just an expression._

With a sigh, Eragon nodded. Saphira watched as her dismayed Rider and friend attempted to tie a knot in a single emerald blade of grass and failed miserably. Eragon gazed sadly at the halved blade in his hand- hoping to distract him, Saphira said, _Arya called earlier._

The whooping feeling in Eragon's stomach was accompanied by an unfamiliar sinking feeling when he heard the Princess' name. _And?_

_And I would have you know that I am not a slave, nor a carrier pigeon, _she thought dryly. _But, on this occasion, I shall share with you your message. She wishes to meet you at the Eastern Gate._

_When?_

_Five minutes ago, _Saphira told him sheepishly. With a groan, the Rider jumped to his feet and began to jog, weaving in between those in his path.

_Did she say anything else?_

_No, _Saphira said instantly, and suspicion began to arise in Eragon as he felt her mental consciousness shift slightly, as if to hide something.

_There's something you're not telling me… _Eragon thought. Saphira ignored him.

_If you are not careful, you will miss Nasuada's briefing. Hurry, little one._

_I will. Thank you._

As he ran, reasons for this sudden desire for communication on Arya's behalf tumbled through Eragon's mind. He hoped sincerely that she had not seen him emerge from Nienna's tent that morning, tousled and confused, for he did not think he could explain his reasoning to her. _I don't think I know myself._

Rounding the final corner that would take him to the Gate and to Arya, the Rider skidded to a halt: a thin, soft layer of rain had begun to fall, coating everything around with small drops of dew. Arya stood between the great posts of the Gate, gazing at the rainbow that mixed water and fire in a kaleidoscope of colours. Both the eyes of the elf and the Rider followed the path of a small, delicate butterfly that fluttered by, seeking shelter from the sheets of rain under the nearby evergreen trees.

"Drottningu," Eragon called politely to Arya as he approached. She did not turn, but nodded. Instead of speaking to him, she stretched out a hand and muttered several words in the ancient language. The butterfly instantly changed its course and landed on her outstretched finger.

"Shadeslayer," Arya murmured, observing the colouful butterfly as its wings trembled gently and its hair-covered probes searched her skin. "Brom once told me that this job was not all butterflies and rainbows."

"Was he right?" Eragon grinned.

"Of course." Arya laughed. Silence reigned for several minutes until Eragon spoke.

"I was told you wished to speak with me, Arya Svit-kona?"

Ignoring the mental dislike of her formal name, Arya turned to face the dragon Rider instantly. Her perfect face, Eragon found, was the vision of confusion. "I'm sorry?"

"I was told that you wished to speak to me…" Eragon repeated, now as confused as she appeared to be. Arya was shaking her head.

"_I _was told that _you _wished to meet _me _by the Gate." Arya told him. Eragon frowned.

"Who on earth told you that?"

"Saphira, of course," she said.

Eragon, after a few moments of perplexed wonderings, suddenly understood. He started to laugh.

"I do not understand," Arya confessed, clearly frustrated by that fact.

"I do believe we have been set up," Eragon chuckled. He watched as the elf Princess' eyes widened and she, too, began to laugh. Her tinkling, high melody mingled pleasantly with his deep, blooming one. He found the sound so pleasant that he made a sure decision to commit it to memory, then caught himself- he could not let himself. He would not. Soon- far too soon, Eragon thought- the laughter stopped. Arya began to walk towards the woodland nearby, gesturing for him to follow. There, she dropped to her knees and deposited the butterfly on a small flower. They watched it fly away.

"I regret my actions, Eragon," Arya suddenly said, her eyes fixed on the butterfly as it wandered happily away. "I was childish. I apologise."

"I, too," Eragon hurried to say. "I was… I am sorry, Arya."

The use of her _real _name made Arya smile. "Apology accepted, Eragon." She sighed, turning to face him. "It is not your fault. I would have you know that, if nothing else."

"You have said that before, Arya!" Eragon burst out before he could stop himself.

"I know. And I'm sorry-"

"Then tell me the truth!"

Arya sighed. "I… I can't."

"Why not?"

The elf shook her head sadly. "I wish I could, Eragon. I wish I could, but…"

"But what? But I'm not an elf? But I would not understand? But I'm just a stupid, worthless human?"

"You are never worthless, Eragon. But I can't tell you. I swore to…"

"Swore to what?" Eragon burst out: he could no longer control himself. Saphira looked on in concern from the depths of his mind, but he brushed her away like a fly mentally, too irritated to give any excuse for his behavior. Arya pulled herself up and looked the man in front of her in the eye.

"That is no concern of yours."

With a growl, Eragon spun on his heel and made to stride away from her, but a slender hand caught his wrist and he found himself face to face with the elf once again. She spoke softly. "And Eragon?"

He gulped. He had not been this close to Arya since… well, since that night on the mountain. "Yes?"

"It would not do you any good to get close to Nienna. Stay away from her."

And then, she was gone.

Eragon sighed, watching her stride away from him. He half hoped that she would look back- she didn't.

_Well, that was nice of you, _Eragon thought sarcastically. Saphira pretended she had not heard him.

_Well? How did it go? _

_Horribly, _Eragon grumbled. He was going to continue, but at that moment he spotted Nienna, who was walking across the clearing with her head down. Blodhgarm was behind her, walking in the opposite direction, but Eragon ignored him. "Nienna!" Her called to her, waving and ignoring Saphira's grumbles in the back of his mind. The elf jumped and faced him. Her nervous expression soon vanished as she saw Eragon walking towards her.

"Eragon!" She smiled, closing the last few feet between them. "How are you?"

"I am fine. I was wondering if you would like to walk with me? We still have Nasuada's briefing to attend."

Nienna's face fell. "I am sorry, Eragon, but I have… personal business to attend to. I will not be attending."

"Oh. I see." Eragon paused. "I will see you later."

"Yes," Nienna smiled. "Later."

Then, the rider watched as she walked away from him. _Don't trust her, _Saphira thought immediately. _I don't._

_You don't trust any woman I speak to, _Eragon snapped in return.

_I trust Arya, _his dragon replied.

For that, Eragon had no answer.

-x-

"_Atra esterní ono thelduin_."

Queen Izlanazadi sighed. "_Un du evarínya ono varda_." She was on her way to train, and was not in the mood for intteruptions. _Not now, _her face clearly read. However, the messenger pressed on.

"My Queen, you have a visitor." The Queen frowned, but before she could protest the elf spoke quietly. "She said you would know who she was."

Izlanazadi froze. "Ah," she said. The elf nodded, smiling. "Thank you." He nodded, then turned and ran away from her. The Queen wasted no time debating what she had just heard: she turned on her heel and strode- almost ran- in the direction she had come.

"_Atra esterní ono thelduin." _Her visitor said as soon as the Queen entered her tent, breathless.

"_Un du evarínya ono varda_." The Queen seated herself at her desk, clasping her hands together nervously. "What news?"

The woman before her smiled impishly, and the smiled was rich with devilish implications. "The best."

Izlanazadi raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?"

"Yes." The elf woman smile grew even more. "Everything is going according to plan."

-x-

**AN: I love you all. Really, I do. I'm sorry I upset some of you so much- but, I'm afraid, some of you upset me. Yes, MonkeyMouse, I'm talking to you. **

**Now, I'm sorry if I spelt Izlanazadi wrong one or two times. However, I'm not sorry if that 'bugs' you. I don't care what bugs you. You know what bugs me? Rude reviewers who can't be bothered to use polite conversation in order to get their point across. Quit whining, MonkeyMouse. Rant over :P**

**Again, fifteen reviews or no chapter :)**

**Love as always,**

**Arya xxx**


	16. Chapter 16

_You're late, _Saphira reprimanded her Rider as he stepped onto the small, raised platform on which Nasuada and Jormundur were stood before the Varden, conversing with their captains. _Nasuada was worried._

Unpleasantly surprised by this news, Eragon glanced at his liege- she was, indeed, staring in his direction, and looked away hastily when he caught her eye under the guise of saying something to her Captain, Jamal. _I'll have to mend her pride soon, _Eragon mused. _I can't carry on like this. This is just… awkward._

_I may have a way for you to do that, _Saphira offered mysteriously. Eragon's eyebrows automatically rose. _Come off your stage, Eragon, and come and speak with those who know the answers._

Excited, and yet strangely nervous, Eragon muttered what he hoped was a suitable excuse to Jormundur and hurried from the stage. _Where are you? _He asked apprehensively.

_Behind the emerald tent next to the armory, _came the immediate answer. Eragon hurried towards her and the elusive 'wise ones' that she spoke so highly of. He gasped when he saw-

Blodhgarm, Angela and Roran.

_Them?! _He asked Saphira incredulously. _But you said-_

"_Them? _What do you mean, _Them?!" _Angela barked. Solenbum weaved between her legs and rubbed, purring, against Blodhgarm's. This contact startled Eragon: he'd never seen the Werecat take to anyone so quickly. "We're here to help you, boy!"

Eragon continued to address Saphira exclusively, pushing aside his astonishment and confusion at Angela's apparent ability to know what he was thinking. _But where are those who can help me? You said-_

"Oh, enough of that!" The herbalist snapped, waving a gnarled finger at him threateningly. "If you have something to say, say it to all of us!" She gestured around the small group. Roran looked confused, and Blodhgarm looked vaguely amused. Eragon sighed.

_Saphira._

Eragon's sapphire blue dragon fixed him in a steely gaze. _Think about it, Eragon. Blodhgarm is as skilled with his tongue as he is with his blade. Roran convinced the deep-rooted inhabitants to leave everything they held dear to leave their homes and follow him across the country, using mere words as tools._

_And Angela?_

_Well, I'm not really sure where she comes into it, _Saphira admitted. _She just appeared. But still, every little helps._

The Rider sighed and faced the small gathering, who looked at him expectantly. "Very well. What do you propose I do?"

-x-

The air was filled with the deafening roar of the sound of the warriors clashing their swords against their shields in attribute to Nasuada's carefully crafted patriotic words, but Eragon was horribly oblivious to the noise. _Are you sure this will work? _He asked Angela, Saphira and the world in general as he stepped forward to take the spotlight and tried not to vomit.

_Of course it will, _Angela snapped before Saphira had time to reassure her Rider with lighter words. _Calm down. Just stick to the plan._

Eragon sighed; the Varden finally grew quiet and watched him in anticipation. _I hate this, _he grumbled. Then, before Angela had time to chastise him for moaning, he began to speak.

"These are troubled times," he said, then cleared his throat and began again. He tried not to let his nervousness show in his voice. It was pathetic that he should feel this way before large crowds when he hoped to one day be able to stand before Galbatorix and hold his head high. "These are troubled times. In these times, in which it is hard to tell a friend from an enemy-" here, he risked a glance at Nasuada, who was watching him intently "- you must stand by those who you are loyal to. You must let them know that… that you are loyal, and that nothing- _nothing- _will let that loyalty fade." As the Varden roared their approval, Eragon looked at his liege. Her eyes were brimming with tears. Eragon took courage from this sign as he turned back to the crowd before him. "Therefore, I ask that you kneel before our loving leader-" as the Rider gestured toward Nasuada, cries of "Lady Nightstalker!" filled the air "-and repeat after me: we honour you. We serve you." After some hesitation, he added; "We love you."

The Varden fell to their knees instantly, repeating the young Rider's words. Eragon reluctantly looked up at Nasuada, ignoring the roar that followed the speech. Her tears had over flown, but she smiled at the eye contact. Eragon would have looked away, but he felt it important that she understand: he maintained the contact until she nodded, and then walked away.

Satisfied, and yet strangely regretful, Eragon walked off the stage and straight to where Roran, Blodhgarm, Angela and Saphira were waiting. All four of them beamed when he saw them, and even Solenbum appeared and purred at him. Eragon smiled at them all. "Thank you," he told them. "Thank you all." Then, he sighed, "For now, I suppose, it is goodbye."

"No," said Roran.

"No?" Eragon's eyebrows automatically rose. "What do you mean?"

"I am coming," his cousin told him, barely able to keep from grinning. At these words, the Rider felt a small buzz of excitement.

"Really?" Roran nodded. Eragon grinned at him, then turned to Blodhgarm. "And you…?"

"I will be staying," Blodhgarm told him, his deep voice regretful. "The Queen, she… I… I cannot come. I am sorry, Shadeslayer, that we cannot stand back to back once more, but…" he sighed. "Perhaps another time, yes?"

"Of course." Eragon nodded courteously.

"Eragon!"

_Oh, not again… _Saphira grumbled quietly. Eragon ignored her and turned to face the oncoming Nienna.

"Good morning," he smiled as she wove her fingers between his. Did she notice that the smile was slightly forced?

"Good morning." She returned the smile, and Eragon guessed not. "Are you going to introduce me?"

"Ah. Yes." Eragon gestured to Roran, who was staring at the sky and trying very hard not to laugh. "This is Roran. That is-" He paused, and frowned. _Where did Angela go? _

It was, as ever, Saphira who answered him. _She does not like the witch either. _Eragon glared at her.

Nienna, oblivious to Eragon's distraction, said, "We should get going."

_WE? _Saphira roared mentally. _She- surely- no! I refuse!_

"Of course," Eragon smiled sweetly at the elf, his eyes glinting.

_NO! Of course NOT!_

"Will you be joining us, Roran?" Nienna asked, her bell like voice ringing through the air as she cocked her head to one side. Roran forgot his laughter and stared at her. He appeared for all the world as if he had been struck dumb. Eragon cleared his throat loudly.

"Um, what? Oh. Right. I don't think…"

"Of course you can, Roran," Eragon interrupted. "It's this or walk."

Roran appeared torn. "Well…"

"That's settled then," Nienna trilled happily. She crossed to Saphira and placed a hand on her saddle. Saphira growled, but Eragon managed to disguise it with a forced cough. "Help me up?"

Eragon quickly walked over and, at a loss of what to do, pushed hard on Nienna's upper legs. Behind him, Roran collapsed laughing at Eragon's helpless face.

The rest of them climbed aboard, and waited as Nasuada strode over. She had eyes for only Eragon. "Be safe," she requested softly.

Then, they flew.

-x-

**AN: Sorry about the delay, guys. Really… A big thank you to Musings Of A Shaken Mind, without whom this chapter would never have been finished!**

**I forgot to credit one of the lines in the last chapters to METALLiCxTEARs- it was 'It's not all butterflies and rainbows'. I read that in one of her awesome fics and decided I'd steal it… sorry!!**

**Twenty reviews, please :)**

**Loves,**

**Arya xxx**


	17. Chapter 17

**Yes, I know I said twenty. Deal with it.**

-x-

The flight lasted, by Eragon's count, a little over six hours: this infuriated not only him, but also Nienna, Roran and especially Saphira, who had been asked to fly directly above the soldiers that marched beneath them. Their slow pace, Eragon found, was not only uncomfortable but also inconsolably boring.

He tried, at first, to make conversation, but as Saphira refused to speak with Nienna his efforts went largely unnoticed. Roran, too, for a reason that Eragon could not fathom, refused to speak, leaving the Rider and the elf to make uncomfortable small talk before the conversation faded and they flew in silence for the rest of the journey.

When they landed, the three found that they approached ground on unsteady legs; while Eragon and Roran made straight for the nearest log so that they may stretch their legs comfortably, Nienna immediately wobbled in the direction of the woods. Confused, Eragon made to follow her until Roran caught his arm and Saphira sniggered.

"Leave her," his cousin said, shaking his head. "The doings of women in their own, private time is… better left unknown."

Eragon felt himself flush. "_Oh_."

The cousins sat heavily with stiff legs, making the timber beneath them groan. Roran looked curiously at a panting Saphira. "There is a river over there," he pointed out hesitantly. "I am sure Saphira could drink her fill-"

_I will not be lead to water like a pony, _Saphira snapped. Roran shrunk back, watching her spiked tail suspiciously as she turned and strode away. After a moment loud slurping noises could be heard from her direction. Both men, snickering a little, turned their backs to her.

"Now," said Roran, in a tone that made Eragon automatically reach for Brisingr. "Tell me about that one, then." He jerked his thumb in the direction in which Nienna had disappeared. "I thought you were fawning over Arya?" Eragon winced. His cousin patted him on the back and sighed. "That is what I was afraid of. Tell me everything."

With a loud sigh, Eragon began to tell his cousin what had happened: how Arya had kissed him (the story was punctuated by a loud gasp at this point, but Eragon took no notice) how he had rejected Nasuada and, eventually, that he had, in turn, rejected Arya. At this point, words failed the young Rider, and Saphira took over the story from there. When she had finished, she looked at Eragon, her great eyes glistening. _Oh, little on._ Eragon realised that in the course of that story, the whole depth of his emotions had been showcased fully to both Saphira and Roran. He ducked his head, ashamed, but when Roran turned to face him he, too, had tears in his eyes.

"You are an _idiot, _Eragon," Roran told his cousin bluntly- his voice a little huskier than usual.

"Me?" Eragon asked, startled. "Why me?"

"Don't you _see?_" Eragon shook his head. "Arya loves you."

"No," Eragon stated immediately. "She doesn't. She can't."

"Why not?" Roran demanded.

"Because she told me." Roran rolled his eyes, but Eragon did not let him speak. "She told me in the Ancient Language, Roran. You cannot lie in the Ancient Language."

Grimly satisfied, the Rider sat back and watched his cousin, who seemed unable to think up an argument to that astonishing fact.

"She loves you," Roran told him quietly. "I know she does."

"_How?" _Eragon argued, looking his cousin grimly in the eye. "You cannot _know. _You have no way of knowing."

Roran shook his head. "Perhaps not. But still, I have a pretty good idea." He waited, but his cousin did not respond. "You remember when Katrina and I started courting?"

"Secretly," Eragon pointed out. Roran ignored him.

"She said nothing on her feelings towards me, although I was full of compliments and romantics for her. But still, I knew she loved me, too. I just knew it."

"How?" Eragon asked once again, incredulously.

"Gut instinct."

_How romantic, _Saphira sniffed. Roran shook his head.

"No… it was more than that. It was instinct, but when it comes from in here…" he clasped his chest… "you have to listen to it, no matter what your head says." He fixed his cousin in a steely gaze, looking- or perhaps Eragon imagined it- into his very soul. "So you need to ask yourself, Eragon, and tell me now: does Arya love you or not?"

The immediate answer that leapt to Eragon's tongue was 'no': however, something in Roran's eyes prevented him from saying it aloud. _I'll humour him, and maybe he'll shut up, _Eragon decided. He closed his eyes with a dramatic sigh.

Instantly, a tide of images swept over Eragon's consciousness, invading it. They came swiftly: so swiftly Eragon had only enough time to recognize them before they disappeared.

They were images, mainly, of him and Arya together: of them kissing by the lake, by the sparkling golden lily; of them sitting together by a campfire (did Eragon imagine it, or was she shuffling steadily closer and closer to him?); of them laughing, and talking on the hilltop; and finally one of Arya, who he could see out of the corner of his mind's eye was watching with a murderous glare as he and Nasuada flew together over the battle field.

The images repeated themselves several times until Eragon gathered enough sense and strength to pull away from them. When he had, he sat very still, his eyes still tight shut.

_Why have I never noticed this before?_

_Because you, for the life of you, took Arya's words as true, _Saphira answered softly. _But mainly because it would have distracted you, so I helped you to, um, forget._

His eyes snapped open and he turned to glare at his great, sapphire dragon, who grinned at him almost sheepishly.

"Well?" Roran asked abruptly, frustrated by their silent communications. "Do you know yet? Does Arya love you?"

"Yes," Eragon replied simply, looking his cousin happily in the eye. "Yes, she does."

Roran's face broke into a wide grin. "Excellent," he said happily. "I knew you would figure it out sometime."

Eragon's eyes narrowed. "You knew? And you didn't think to save me all this trouble and _tell me?!"_

"Angela said it was best you figure it out for yourself. She said you wouldn't believe me if I did."

"Angela knew, too?!"

"Of course." Roran shrugged. "She knows everything she shouldn't. And as for saving you trouble- I think that even if I had told you, you'd still find a way to get yourself into it."

Eragon had no argument for that.

"Sorry," Nienna's lilting voice drifted through the trees. "I was… admiring the bluebells. They really are quite exquisite."

Roran's eyes met Eragon's, who nodded sadly. _I have to tell her at some point, _he reasoned. _I'd just rather not do it right before a battle, when she will have a very large sword in her hands. _

_Oh, don't be a coward._

"Could you… uh… show me them?" Eragon requested weakly. His cousin sniggered at him, but Nienna simply beamed and held out a hand, that Eragon reluctantly took.

"Come on, then." And with that, the elf dragged the young Rider into the woods, leaving a now howling Roran behind them.

"Here we are," Nienna said softly, pointing and distracting Eragon from his frantic hopes and thinking. "Beautiful, are they not."

"Hmm? Oh, yes…"

Nienna turned to face him with a frown and her head tilted to one side. "Are you alright, Eragon?"

"Actually…" the Rider took a deep breath and looked her directly in the eye. "No."

The frown deepened. "No?"

"No. I-"

And then, Eragon was interrupted by three loud blasts of a horn. The pair stiffened, and simultaneously began to run out of the woods. The speech would have to wait.

The fight of Ashvasser had begun.

-x-

**AN: Tadaaaa!!! I hope you liked it- I'm rather proud of this chapter, actually :)**

**Twenty reviews again, please, and a big thank you to Musings Of A Shaken Mind (AGAIN) for inspiring this chapter with the words '****I'm also glad that Roran's also going on the mission. He'll be quite good at knocking some sense into Eragon with that kickass hammer of his.****'. Also for Instanticecube, my one hundred and fiftieth (!!!) reviewer!!! (Lol, bad luck, The Other Place!!)**

**Love you all,**

**Arya xxx**


	18. Chapter 18

"To the western front!"

"Men! Fall in!"

A savage cry tore from Eragon's lips as he and Nienna sprinted out of the small woodland, drawing Brisingr as he ran. They had no time to even blink as they entered the already bloody battlefield. With a yell, Eragon leapt to engage himself in the fight. The first man he met took less than two minutes to dispatch. As he stood over his victim's gore-covered body, Eragon frowned at the scene before him: why were there so few soldiers on the opposing side? Something was definitely amiss.

Indeed, now he thought on it, Eragon noted that the men they fought were dropping left, right and center: they were not the vile creatures of the King's creation that could not be killed, then. Eragon's frown deepened: it was almost as if Galbatorix _wanted _his red-clad soldiers to die…

A harsh yell alerted the young Rider once again to where he was: whipping his head around, he watched as Roran brought his hammer clashing down on the helm of an unsuspecting enemy. He caught his cousin's eye. They exchanged a grin.

_Concentrate, Eragon!_

Saphira's worried voice rang through his head. He glanced around, then skyward, looking for the telltale glint of her sapphire scales, but he found none- the sky was heavy with dark clouds, looking for all the world as though they might drop their sodden cargo at any moment.

_Where are you? _

Eragon's question was answered with an ear-splitting roar: directly above him, Saphira dived out of the clouds and landed by his side. Men scattered all around with terrified yells. Eragon leapt onto his dragon at once, happy to be where he belonged. Saphira, however, did not share his excitement.

_Something is wrong, _she told him as she moved her giant wings and threw herself into the air. _Can you not feel it?_

_Yes, _Eragon replied, surprised by the intensity of her doubts. _I thought there would be more men to defend their position in a town that Nasuada claimed to be of such importance._

_It's not just that…_

_Then what is it?_

_I do not know, _Saphira admitted. _I feel it._

_Well, until you realise what 'it' is, can we focus on the matter at hand? _Eragon demanded testily. Saphira uneasily agreed.

They flew above the battlefield, dragon and Rider as one…

_She watches as the dragon and Rider fly above the battlefield, a pure vision of power, and fear grips the elven princess. She looses another arrow, but it falls short of her target. With a curse, Arya rejoins the fight…_

As he pulled out of his fantasies, gasping for breath, Eragon's heart pounded furiously. _Did you see that? _He asked Saphira frantically, barely able to hold on as they dived.

_See what?_

Eragon shared with her what he had just seen.

_You must have imagined it, _Saphira replied uneasily. _It's… it's not possible._

Eragon nodded, and reached over his shoulder for his bow and an arrow, which he sent flying expertly into the throng at a red-clad enemy. An anguished cry told him it had met it's target.

_Men's cries filled the air as Arya swoops, ducks and swings her sword, creating a fine mist of blood around her barely visible blade. The fight is violent and ruthless, unlike any she has ever come across… without Eragon by her side._

Eragon blinked as lightening raced across the darkening sky, momentarily lighting the scene as rain began to fall, drenching them all within seconds.

"_Saphira!_" Eragon yelled, using both his mind and his voice. _Tell me you saw that?_

_Only through you, _Saphira answered nervously. _Arya must be sending this to you subconsciously… It looks like this mission is a distraction, Eragon._

A chill that had nothing to do with the rain shook the Rider at his very core. _Saphira, we have to go._

The dragon, swooping to avoid a close flying arrow, agreed instantly. _But we should stay until the battle is over, Little One. We cannot leave them to die._

_Of course. Let me rejoin the fight. I must tell Roran and Nienna, at the very least._

Reluctantly, Saphira dropped to the ground, where Eragon leapt from her back and pushed through the fray.

_Arya watches with growing dread as Murtagh and his blood-red dragon drop to the ground, making the earth beneath them shake. All around her, friends and enemies alike scream in terror and flee, ignoring the yells of their furious captains. Arya pushes her way towards the now dismounted Rider. Her heart races._

"_NO!" _Eragon roared, slashing his sword violently through the air as if to strike down Murtagh at that very instant. Instead, it caught a red-clad soldier through the neck, slicing through the bone like butter.

_What now? _Saphira asked frantically, clawing desperately at the men who approached her.

_Murtagh and Thorn, _was all Eragon could say. Identical tremors of fear filled the pair.

_Eragon, find Roran and Nienna quickly, _Saphira instructed her Rider weakly, _We cannot afford to wait around._

_Murtagh grins evilly as his eyes fall upon the elf who holds herself so grandly, stopping but a few feet before him. His heard races. He has been waiting for this…_

"_Where are they?" Murtagh demands, clutching at Zar'roc tightly. "Where are Saphira and Eragon?"_

"_Gone," comes the triumphant reply. "Far from here."_

_Howls of rage fill the bloody air._

Eragon howled, jarring his teeth as he clamped his mouth shut, forcing himself to be silent. He was furious, but mainly at himself- why had he not stayed behind? _Why?_

"Nienna!" He began to yell, pushing down any that stood in his way as he stumbled through the fight. Such was the expression on his face that many shrank back in fear of the furious, blood-thirsty Rider. "Roran! Nienna!"

"Eragon!" came the roared reply. The Rider turned instantly to see his cousin sprinting towards him, his hammer held high above his head. "What is it?"

"Murtagh and Thorn have attacked the Varden," he explained, watching Roran's eyes widen. "This-" he gestured around him "-is a distraction. They wished to separate us."

"We must leave, then," Roran said simply, not pausing to ask how Eragon knew this.

"We? Roran, I-"

"Do not suggest that I wait here while my wife and ch- while my wife is in danger," Roran told him, waving a threatening finger and looking so murderous that his cousin dared not argue. Eragon sighed.

"Now, then. I will contact Nienna," he said, already sprinting towards Saphira.

A brief, hurried explanation later, Eragon and Roran were safely aboard Saphira, who took off with a roar and a burst of blinding flame. She began to beat her wings in a way that terrified her young Rider: he had never known her so urgent. So afraid.

_Fear fills the Princess as she steps forwards, her move bringing with it the terrifying feeling of absolute finality. No going back, now._

_Murtagh watches her, all traces of anger gone from his face. Triumph is the only emotion that Arya finds in his dark eyes as he raises his sword._

_No going back…_

Eragon gasped for air as he bent low over the saddle, gripping Saphira's neck as hard as he dared. He urged his dragon on, wordless in his prayers. Arya needed him. _I love you, _the young Rider thought, hoping to convey some of his message through the effort of pure will.

_I love you, Eragon, Arya thinks desperately as elf and man twirl together, locked in a deadly battle of life…_

_Or death._

"Arya-"

_Arya falls to the ground, winded, as a heavy foreleg meets the middle of her back. She can not move as she watches Murtagh raise his bloody sword. Watches his lips form the words that are not a spell, although they terrify her completely._

"_For you, brother…"_

"NO!"

_And then-_

"NO! Arya-"

_And then…_

"ARYA!"

_It is over._

**-x-**

**AN: Sorry about the delay, guys. Exams. Meh. Don't you just hate them?!**

**I'm sure you all hate me now, but please review. :)**

**Loves xxx**


	19. Chapter 19

The first thing Eragon became aware of was _pain. _Blinding, searing pain. That pain filled the young Rider's mind- although not, curiously, his body- penetrating every wall and every sanctuary until all he knew was pain. He could not move- the sensation was a tether, stopping him from lifting even a finger.

Then, there was something other than the pain: in his agonized-haze, Eragon managed to recognize it as _Saphira. _It was friendly, whatever it was. It was filled with a strange emotion, one that Eragon did not recognize. Sympathy? No, no… pain, but of a different kind than his. Emotional pain. Sorrow.

_Oh, Little One…_

The words kindled some strange, distant memory in the Rider's fogged mind. Suddenly, the pain did not seem quite so overwhelming. He blinked. The alien movement vanquished more of the pain- it felt wonderful. He blinked again, and again, and again, until all of the pain but a small throbbing in the back of his mind had gone. His thoughts were clear once more.

"Eragon?"

The tentative voice of Roran touched his cousin's ears gently. Eragon grinned, and sat up- carefully flexing each muscle to check which parts of him were hurt.

Not so much as a bruise.

_How… strange, _Eragon thought, rubbing his eyes. Strangely, he felt extremely well rested, and his eyes were dusted with a light covering of sleep. Frowning, the young Rider took one brief look at his surroundings, grinning again when he realised where he was- his tent. Contented, he noticed that Angela, Roran and Saphira were also present, the latter sticking her head through the open door. But why did they look so tired? Why did worry and stress hide in all of their eyes?

_Oh, Little One._

"What happened?" He asked, finding his voice at last. "I was hurt, but now…" he indicated his un-blemished body. "Did you heal me?" He asked Angela. He was surprised to see that she and Saphira exchanged a worried look, and did not answer. "What's going on?"

Angela sighed, wiping her brow clear of the sweat that doused it. Eragon had never seen the witch so flustered. "Before we tell you, Eragon… Nasuada is outside. She wished to see you, but Saphira…" she gestured tiredly to the sapphire dragon who blocked the entrance to the tent.

Eragon frowned. _Why would you be so rude? _He asked her, growing a little worried when he received no answer. _Let her in! _

Reluctantly, Saphira retreated slightly, allowing Nasuada enough space to squeeze inside. Eragon was surprised to see that her eyes were red and she wore blood-stained armour. As soon as she were inside the tent, she rushed to his side.

"I am so, so sorry," she apologised through sudden tears. "The missionI sent you on…" Glancing at a scowling Angela, she continued regretfully. "Elva saw that if you stayed here…" she gulped, shaking her head. "I invented the mission. It was a lie, to get you away from here."

For several moments- or minutes, as it felt to Nasuada- Eragon sat still, frozen in the position he had been when she had started speaking. Roran, Angela and Saphira all stiffened, too, waiting. For what, they did not know. Finally, Eragon spoke.

"Why?" He asked, his brows furrowing. "What happened here?" The four of them avoided his eyes; eyes that widened suddenly as he realised what had happened. "There was a battle," he whispered, glancing at each of them for confirmation. None was given. "There was a fight, wasn't there? Tell me!" He commanded. Angela sighed again.

"How do you feel, Eragon?"

"A small headache, nothing serious," he snapped, ignoring their exchanged looks. "Tell me what happened! Was anybody hurt?"

Nasuada gasped, a small, slight sound too quiet for human ears. Eragon looked at her in horror.

"Who?" He asked, terrified. Chill penetrated his bones, into his marrow, but he ignored it. "_Who?"_

It was Angela who eventually answered.

"Arya."

_Pain floods Arya's bright, clear mind, filling it with the haze of war and death. She is vaguely aware of another presence, sharing in her agony, but she cannot fathom why. She cannot even lift a finger._

_After the pain… comes the fear. Is she dead? No, she doesn't think so: if she were, she doubts the smell of blood and sweat and pure fear would be swimming through the air that she still appears to be breathing. And surely if she were dead, she would not be able to hear the distant sound of mindless, human chatter…_

_Satisfied, the fear fades to a dull buzzing at the back of her mind. She is left with the pain… and the regret. For she knows that if she were to die, she would never have been able to tell Eragon that she loves him._

_That revelation hurts more than any mortal wound._

"Eragon?"

"Eragon!"

_Eragon. Please. Say something._

"Ow!"

Eragon touched his smarting cheek and glared at Angela, whose hand was outstretched. "What was that for?"

"You were just sitting there," Roran told him nervously. He clenched at the hands of a tear stained Katrina, who must have joined them.

"Shock." Angela supplied helpfully. In the corner, Nasuada gave a dry sob. Everyone ignored her. "Now, I suppose, you'll demand to see her." Eragon said nothing. "We'll say no, you won't take no for an answer, and the endless bickering lasts for hours. So why don't I save us all the trouble and take you to see Arya?"

With a sigh, Eragon pushed back the covers and stood, wavering on stiff legs. "If you insist."

Concealing a grim smile, Angela lead him, Roran, Katrina, Saphira and a sniffling Nasuada towards Arya's tent. Eragon raised an eyebrow. "Why are they keeping her here?"

"The healing tent is for those whose injuries can be healed," Angela said quietly. Fear filled Eragon. She paused before the entrance to the tent. Eragon made to brush past her, but she stopped him with a hand. "Now, Eragon, she… she won't be able to respond to you. We've tried to breach her mind, to at least be able to speak with her a little, but…" she sighed and withdrew the hand. He pushed inside, apprehensive now.

The tent was warm- uncomfortably so. Blodhgarm sat in the corner, his head in his hands. He glanced up when Eragon entered.

"Hello," he whispered weakly. "She… she's behind the curtain." He gestured to a makeshift curtain that had been erected in the middle of the tent, effectively slicing it in half. Eragon nodded and moved it gently aside.

Arya was lying on a wooden table in the center of the halved room, her arms held stiffly by her side. The sight of the strong, immovable elf so weak made Eragon stumble- a healer pushed him down upon a stool by her makeshift bed, then walked away.

"Arya," he gasped aloud, reaching for her pale hand. Tears streamed down his face. _Arya…_

He glanced upwards, staring at the material that obstructed his view of a clear night sky. _Now I know that there are no gods, for they would not allow this monstrous event to occur, _he thought miserably. _Why Arya?_

_Eragon?_

Eragon dropped the elf's hand, standing. He glanced behind him, but, seeing no one, frowned. It had not sounded like Saphira… who, then?

His eyes widened as he looked back at the body on the table.

_Arya?_

_The very same, _came the weak reply. _What… happened? _Eragon was at a loss of how to reply, but she answered her own question as a little of the pain cleared and Arya's memory sprung into immediate action. They winced as one as the pair saw exactly what had occurred, second by second…

_Murtagh, _Eragon thought grimly. _Are you... how do you feel?_

_It _hurts,Arya said. Tears welled in the Rider's eyes; he hated that she was in so much pain, and that he could not help. _And, _she added, _it's too hot._

He laughed, wiping his tears away. _Yes, I noticed that. Hang on._

_I won't move, _she thought. Eragon smiled grimly as he pushed aside the curtain that separated one half of the tent from the other. Blodhgarm looked up.

"It's too hot," Eragon told him. "Arya hates it."

He frowned. "Excuse me?"

"Arya told me she finds this tent too hot," he explain, itching to go back to the elf's side. Blodhgarm gasped.

"You have talked with her?" He asked, standing. "You have communicated with the Princess?"

"Yes…"

"How?" Blodhgarm wanted to know.

"She contacted me with her mind," Eragon frowned. "_Why?"_

"Incredible," Blodhgarm breathed. "I need to speak with Angela," he announced, rushing out of the tent. Eragon watched him go, confused, before Angela rushed into the tent a moment later.

"He says you spoke with her," Angela exclaimed, her wide eyes flickering towards the sheet that screened Arya from view.

"Yes…" Eragon frowned.

"Well?"

"Well _what?"_

"How did you speak with her?!"

"She contacted me with her mind!"

Angela gasped, gaping at the apparently sleeping elf. Within a moment, she appeared to make several decisions all at once. "Contact the Queen," she barked at Blodhgarm, who hurried out of the tent. His absence allowed Nasuada to squeeze into the room. "You-" she pointed at Nasuada, a terrible scowl set on her face. "stay with him, and if she needs anything, come and fetch me. I will be in my tent." Nasuada nodded and moved towards Eragon slightly- he mirrored the movement, but in the opposite direction. His liege quickly lowered her wet eyes as Angela scurried out of the tent, leaving them alone.

_Arya? _Eragon inquired, moving to sit by her bed and resolving to all but ignore the woman hovering behind him. _Are you… how do you feel?_

_Weak, _came the quiet reply. The truth behind her words both shocked and terrified Eragon. _Who else is here?_

_Nasuada._

The elf hissed mentally, such a sound of venom that he had never heard pass Arya's lips- or mind, in this case.

_Arya, _Eragon said, a little surprised, _Nasuada is not to blame for this. _

_No, _she agreed hurriedly. _Of course not. _Her words may have reassured another, but Eragon frowned.

_What are you not telling me?_

Silence answered his question. Eragon sighed. _Arya…_

_Eragon… Do not think too harshly of her once you have seen what I have seen._

Confused, he hastily agreed. He barely had time to take a breath before his consciousness shifted: in a matter of seconds, his eyes were no longer his own. His ears heard sounds that he would definitely not have heard in the tent where he had been sat, just moments ago: it took him another few seconds to realise that he was seeing the world through Arya's eyes- through her memories.

_The elf was stood outside Nasuada's tent, awaiting an audience with her- an audience requested, in fact, by the leader of the Varden. Low voices swept through the fabric door. Merely out of curiosity, she turned her head slightly and listened more intently._

"_-are you sure it will work?" Nasuada's nervous voice shook. "Eragon is not stupid, and neither is Arya."_

"_Of course it will," Elva's voice was twice as confident. "You will tell them both- and Jormundur- that there are plans to take Ashvasser. Eragon will leave, and Arya will be left here."_

"_Left here to die?" Nasuada muttered. _

"_Nasuada. You must think of the future of the Varden. Eragon is our future, not that sorry little elf."_

"_Yes…" Nasuada replied. Her voice no longer shook. "Yes, of course. Eragon is much more important." _

"_Yes." Arya could hear the smile in Elva's voice, even over the sound of her racing heart. "Now, Arya is waiting outside the tent."_

_The elf turned her head away from the door, pretending instead to inspect the skylarks that flitted through the pure blue sky. As Elva slipped through the door and strode away, Arya could have sworn she wore an amused smile on her face._

The fact knocked the wind out of the young Rider. For several minutes, he stayed stock still, trying to take in the information that he had been given.

_What? But… no! she told me-_

_I know. Do not think too harshly of her, _she reminded him gently. _She did it in the best interests of the Varden. _

The young Rider turned to face the quivering woman standing in the doorway: her eyes widened at the terrible expression on his face.

"_You _did this."

She shook her head, tears dripping from her trembling chin. She seemed to shrink before him as Eragon stood.

"_YOU _DID THIS!"

"Eragon, I-"

"Get out." He hissed. With an effort, he forced himself to sit back down. Nasuada moved forwards to place a shaking hand on his arm. He shook it off. "_Get out!"_

With a dry sob, she turned and fled the tent, leaving nothing but misery and pain behind her.

-x-

**AN: again… sorry it took so long!! Exams. Grrr. But I've finished them now, so it's all good!! Also, it would have been much better quality, but my beta is very busy at the moment and didn't have time to look this over. (Becky- no hard feelings, hun (: Loves x)**

**After this chapter, there are about… two left, excluding the epilogue. Sorry about that, but I thank you for all your awesome reviews and comments!!**

**Love as always xxx**


	20. Chapter 20

_You should not have spoken to Nasuada that way, _Saphira reprimanded her Rider gently as he resumed his seat by the side of Arya's bed.

_Her deathbed, _Eragon suddenly thought. It was such a repulsive thought that he shook his head vigorously, trying to block it from his mind. He sighed and replied to his sapphire dragon.

_I know, _he said regretfully, _but she should not have done what she did._

_She is not entirely to blame._

_Who else, then? _Eragon asked, surprised, but Saphira would not answer. He meant to pursue the subject, but at that moment Blodhgarm hurried into the tent. He took several, steadying breaths before focusing on Eragon and speaking.

"The Queen wishes to speak to you," the wolf-elf growled. With regret, Eragon nodded and stood, wondering what had put Blodhgarm in such a foul mood. At the door, he hesitated.

"Would you mind if- while I am gone- you tell Saphira of any changes in Arya's condition?" He asked. In his mind, Saphira rumbled her assent. "I'd like to know if…" His voice tailed off. Blodhgarm nodded wearily, taking a seat. Eragon thanked him and left.

_I wonder what the Queen wants? _He thought, frowning as he ran through the light drizzle that was now falling.

_I do not know, _Saphira admitted curiously._ All the same, you would do well to keep on your guard. _He absently agreed, mind already drifting back to Arya. _Concentrate, Eragon! If you do not, I fear it could mean… _Eragon frowned, but she refused to say any more. As a result, Eragon felt more world-wary than he had ever before when he stepped into Nasuada's tent.

Upon his arrival, Nasuada looked up, tired and depleted, from where she sat before the mirror on her desk. Eragon refused to look at her as he touched his second and third finger to his lips and said to the elf queen, "Atra esterní ono thelduin."

The Queen wasted no time on formalities, though. She fixed her steely gaze upon Nasuada, who paled under her eyes. A moment later, Islanzadi spoke in the voice of thunder: "Leave."

Nasuada obeyed without question.

"Please," she said to Eragon in a much kinder, yet wearier voice. "Sit."

He sat.

For a few moments, the Queen sat with her head in her hands, shoulders bent as if the weight of the world rested upon them. Then she straightened, looking once more like the royal that she was. "Speak," was all she said.

Eragon spoke.

He spoke of his departure with Nienna and Roran, and how they had chosen who would go with them; he spoke of the fight, and how he had heard Arya's thoughts, seen through her eyes. He spoke of his flight home, and what he had learned since then.

Then, he began to speak of other things.

He spoke of his feelings for Arya. He spoke of how they had kissed, not once, not twice, but three times: and he spoke of her rejections. He spoke until his voice was hoarse and he could hardly speak at all.

Then… there was silence.

_Why did you tell her that? _Saphira enquired gently. To his surprise, she was not reprimanding, nor angry. Just compassionate, and understanding.

_It was nessacery, _he concluded, although he had not known the answer to that question until it had been asked. _Yes. It was nessacery._

_We shall see, _came the reply.

Eragon's eyes widened as he remembered the elf queen: he had been so preoccupied in the tale that he told that he had forgotten his audience. Now, he was surprised to see a tear roll down Islanzadi's cheek and onto her cape of swan feathers.

"It seems I have much to apologise for," the queen whispered. Another tear joined the first, creating a stream of salt water down her face. She hurried to wipe them away.

"I'm… what?" Eragon frowned. "What have you to apologise for?"

For a moment, the queen hesitated on the edge of speech. Then, she shook her head. "Now is not the time."

"When is, then?" Eragon asked, confused.

"The time is when my daughter is well again," Islanzadi told him. Her voice had regained its formal edge, and she sat straight and tall Eragon .nodded wearily. "Now, Shadeslayer… there is one thing that can save her now, and one thing only, so listen well." Eragon nodded once more, tiredness swept aside as he listened eagerly. "Love." Was all the Queen said.

"_Love?" _He asked, incredulous. The Queen nodded, raising thin eyebrows at him. "How will that help, now?"

"There are few cures for an affliction such as Arya's," she told him sternly, but Eragon saw her stumble over the name of her daughter. "And the healers at the Varden have tried all of them. Now, what she really needs is the support of those who love her." She looked at him, her piercing gaze daring him to challenge the observation. He did not. "So rejoin her, and be sure that the next time we speak it is with joy and not these heavy hearts." Eragon nodded, and stood.

"Goodbye," he said, bowing. The Queen inclined her head. The image flickered, then was gone.

Eragon trudged back to the tent in which Arya lay, thinking of all that had occurred. Saphira joined his pondering, but she contributed the most. He no longer cared. All he thought of was Arya.

_Has anything of interest occurred in my absence?_

_No. _She replied, much too quickly. Frowning, Eragon broke into a run as he rounded the last corner.

He gasped as he saw Elva exit the tent, a strange smile dancing about her lips. Although he was half concealed behind a scarlet tent, she looked him in the eye and grinned. Frozen in place, Eragon watched until she was gone.

_Why was she here? _Eragon demanded of Saphira, making it clear that he would pursue the issue if she did not answer.

_She wished to visit Arya._

_Willingly? Knowing that it would almost certainly cause her pain?_

_You forget that she can ignore that pain now, thanks to your spell._

He threw his hands up into the air. _Oh, well that excuses all her actions, does it? _She stayed silent. _Does it?_

_No._

_Well-_

Eragon was forced to stop as Arya's tentative mind touched his. He hurried inside, astounded by how weak it was.

_How are you? _She asked. He laughed weakly, taking his seat by her side.

_Me? How are you, more importantly? _

_I live. _Was all she said.

Time held no meaning for the immortals as they sat side by side, enjoying each other's presence. They talked for a long while of many things- everything, it seemed, but the growing weakness of the still elf.

This weakness both terrified and saddened Eragon: when Arya's replies were reduced to one or two word sentences, he broke down into tears. Saphira silently joined his mind and comforted him as they watched the elf's consciousness fade into nothing but a dim glow.

**AN: SHE'S NOT DEAD, FOLKS!!! Not yet, anyway… ;)**

**Sorry it took so long!**

**Loves,**

**Arya xxx**


	21. Chapter 21

Eragon watched, dismayed and disheartened, as Arya's bright mind faded into a low glow. Saphira's pain was a fraction of his own, but the agony molded into one as it rebounded across their mental link until they could no longer escape from it. Eragon's elfen vision blurred as his eyes clouded with tears. He made no attempt to hide them.

_Should I fetch a healer? _He thought- and even as he did so, he knew that it would be in vain. _"There are some injuries we can't heal,"_ he remembered Garrow saying one as he lead Nodra, their farm dog, into the woods to be killed after the dog had stepped on a trap. The loss had filled both Eragon and Roran with depression, but that pain had not been even half of what he felt now.

_No, little one, _Saphira told him gently. _What Arya needs now is strength, not healers._

_Then let us give her strength!_ He thought eagerly. Saphira, however, hesitated.

_Little one… there is only so much strength we can give. Nasuada would not approve of you-_

_Oh, to hell with Nasuada! _He snapped. She fell silent, but he recognised the wisdom in her words and begrudgingly obliged. _How can we help her? _He mused, knowing deep down that there must be an answer to that question… There _must… _

_I do not know. All I know is that if we do not find a way to make her stronger soon, I fear she… _

Saphira could not complete that sentence, but the meaning in her words hung as heavy and as dense as wood in the air.

_Stronger… _Eragon thought once more, looking at the words as though they were a riddle. _We need to make her stronger…_

Eragon was not the world's greatest thinker.

He knew it was so – the nephew of a farmer was never destined to do great things, or have a great mind. _I am a failure._

_No, _Saphira argued – surprisingly fiercely, Eragon thought. _You are no ordinary farm boy. You are a Rider, Eragon, and need I remind you that I chose you? Would you question my judgement?_

Rather than argue with her, he shrugged the thought off. _All the same… Roran shares a small portion of my flesh and blood, and even he could find a way to save Katrina. _

_That way was you, little one. You helped him._

_But then why can I not help Arya?_

Saphira gave no answer. In his frustration, Eragon kicked his chair leg with a growl – a growl which, soon enough, turned into a groan. _Useless. Failure. Stupid._

_Now, little one, I know that you will find a way to save the princess._

He looked outside the tent into his dragons wide, clear eyes with his own tear-filled ones. _How can you be so sure?_

Silence.

_There's something you're not telling me, _Eragon frowned accusingly. Saphira, outside, shifted uneasily – the whole tent shook as she touched its side. _Saphira, this is important! You must tell me!_

_I cannot _tell _you. _Saphira paused, watching Eragon as though hoping he might suddenly understand. When no revelation came, she sighed and continued. _But I can _show _you._

Suddenly, Eragon's head was filled with images, pictures and smells – smells he had only recognised when seeing the world through Saphira's eyes. He was looking through her memories once more.

_Your name, Saphira, means 'Crystal sky' in our tongue, _Eragon watched Glaedr say. The two dragons appeared to be soaring through a thick fog, with no intent other than to enjoy each others' company.

_And what of yours, master? _The younger dragon enquired eagerly. Eragon hummed disapprovingly as he noted Saphira's deep seated excitement and energy – barely contained – that was brought about by merely being next to the older, golden dragon. _What does your name mean?_

_My name, _Glaedr told her gently as he circled peacefully into a cloud, _means 'love of a friend'- or, more directly, 'beloved'._

The apparition drifted away.

Suddenly bolted to his chair with the sheer truth of it all, Eragon realised what he had to do.

And so he ran.

-x-

"Do you think he'll get it?" Katrina asked worriedly, gripping the plain clay mug in her hands so tightly that Roran feared it might crack. Hurrying over to take it from her, he tried to reassure her with a hastily composed smile.

"Don't worry. I know Eragon. He's smart."

"Ha!"

Both of them turned instantaneously to glare at Angela – who, sitting in the corner of her tent with Solenbum purring on her lap, did a very good job of looking innocent. "What?"

"What do you mean, 'ha'?" Roran enquired. "This is serious!"

"Ha! Ha! What a lovely exclamation, don't you think? Ha! Ha ha ha!"

The witch met Roran's glare with a happy smile. Solenbum gave something which may have been something in between a laugh and a cat cough – turning out to be the latter, when he leaped from Angela's lap and outside the tent, from where a terrible retching sound could be heard.

"He gets the most terrible furballs," Angela sighed sadly. "I've offered him a tonic…"

"You never answered my question," Katrina interjected. "DO you think Eragon will understand? Before it's too late?"

"Define _too late_."

"Angela-!"

"Peace." Elva, sitting quietly in the corner, smiled her strange smile. "I have no doubt that Eragon will _get it_." She paused. "In fact, I think he already has."

"What makes you say that?" Roran asked.

By way of an answer, Elva pointed toward the door. A split second later, Eragon ran past at full speed.

-x-

Past the tents, through the mud, pushing and shoving in his attempts to get further through the crowds and ignoring the shouts and angry mutters he left behind; distance, time, held no meaning for Eragon.

Not today. Not now.

Crashing into his tent, Eragon ripped into his saddle bags, tearing anything in his way to oblivion. They are not important.

Not today. Not now.

_A flash of gold…_

Clumsiness instantly forgotten, Eragon lifted the golden orb with intimate care and thought that rarely had anything appeared so beautiful to him.

_Glaedr?_

_Yes. I am here._

_I need your help._

**AN: I'm sorry it took so long – I just wanted it to be good. I love you all (especially BookLovinWorm. I'm waiting on those reviews, hon).**

**Just the epilogue to go!! (Which, I promise, will not take as long as this one.)**

**Love muchly x**

**PS. Sorry it's short.**


	22. Chapter 22

**AN: Alright, so I lied. There's this chappy, then the epilogue. But honestly… do any of you really mind?! If it bothers you, pretend it's just another addition to the dismally short chapter twenty one :)**

-x-

"I don't understand." A frustrated Katrina voiced her irritation for what many imagined to be the hundredth time – including Roran, who hid his annoyance in a gentle squeeze of her hand. However, Eragon, sat with his hand firmly clutching that of some one entirely different, was too happy to be angry.

"I told you of Glaedr – and his eldunari?" Eragon checked. Katrina looked puzzled.

_His heart of hearts, _Saphira modified. The confused expression vanished, and Roran chuckled.

"Well, the eld- heart of hearts contained energy."

"And… that's what you need to do magic…?"

"Yes, but I didn't need _magic,_" Eragon corrected her slowly. "What I needed was the energy itself. And Glaedr-" he glanced towards Saphira, who was sat with the golden, pulsing orb inbetween her front legs and gazing at it with what he imagined was an infatuated expression. Glaedr, however, was too busy snoring mentally to notice. "-he was only too happy to give it."

All four of them smiled happily at the oblivious dragon heart. Angela, perched on a stool in the corner of the tent, ignored it and went on staring, frowning, at the mouse in her hand. Katrina jumped when it gave an indignant squeak.

"What are you _doing_?" Roran demanded.

"Trying to prove that there are no mice – only rats?" Eragon tried not to laugh.

"Oh, don't be so ridiculous, boy," the witch snapped. "Everyone knows that mice exist. If they didn't, would this one really be sitting in my hand?"

"What are you doing, then?" Katrina enquired nervously. Eragon grinned; he wasn't sure he wanted to know, either.

"Solenbum caught it – I rescued it from his gluttonous clutches." She paused. "What a wonderful word. Gluttonous. Gluttonous…"

"And… you still have it because…?" Roran prompted.

"I was deciding what to call it."

-x-

"Goodbye."

Two people.

Two people had come to see her off – and one of them was an infatuated male no older than the age of fourteen. Nienna shuddered; the scene was so unlike that of her arrival that it made her want to cry.

_Enough of that! You are an elf!_

Nodding to Blodhgarm – who could not seem to keep that disgusting, wolfish grin from spreading all over his horribly hairy face – the elf slipped out of the gates. She had chosen to use a side entrance this time, rather than the main one – and given the numbers of people come to wave goodbye to her, she was rather glad she had. With one last wink at the boy (causing him to turn an unpleasant beetroot colour) Nienna picked up her bow and began to run.

_Two people!_

Blodhgarm, she thought grimly, had better not tell anyone about this.

-x-

Solenbum, silent as a wisp of cloud drifting across a stretch of sapphire blue sky, pawed his way into the room, where he sat down by Saphira's left leg and looked wistfully at the struggling mouse in his companion's hand. Apparently deciding that it was definitely out of reach, the Werecat gave a thoughtful sigh and settled down for a catnap. Angela frowned at him.

"Oh, no you don't," she said sternly. "You shall eat the meals I prepare for you – unless you wish to spend the remainder of your years as an ornament in my garden."

Solenbum bristled. _Alright, alright. But at least change the name. Every time I try to take a bite I remember, and have to stop myself from projectile vomiting._

"I think Kitty Chow is a delightful name!"

Roran, Katrina and Eragon exchanged amused glances, and had to look away quickly for fear that they would burst out laughing. The rider wracked his mind for a way out of this suddenly crowded tent.

_Saphira, help me!_

_No. I like that name. _Came the reproachful answer.

"It's, um, a lovely day…" Roran volunteered, focusing hard on the material above Eragon's head. "How about a walk? You could do with the fresh air." He looked at Eragon's unkempt chin. "And a shave." Roran dodged the bowl that was aimed at him with expert accuracy. "Angela?"

"I think I shall stay here. My mouse needs a name." Angela frowned. Katrina stuffed her hand into her mouth.

"A good idea." Eragon grinned. "Saphira?"

_No. I shall stay. _Was it merely Eragon's imagination, or did she wink at him with one of her large, dragon eyes?

"Suit yourself," he said cautiously. He received no answer.

Roran lead Katrina out of the tent – upon their departure, peals of laughter could be heard from outside. The young rider smiled once more, and turned to his silent love.

"Coming, Arya?"

The elf blinked once, then smiled softly as she focused on Eragon. "Yes, please," she murmured. "I should like to see the flowers in the meadow once more. It seems as though it has been years…" nodding gravely, the elf trailed off. "Yes. I would love it."

The rider smiled widely. "I am glad." Offering her his hand – which she took, gladly – the pair stepped into the open air. Upon their escape, Eragon blinked in surprise as the elf beside him placed a soft kiss on his cheek.

"Thank you." She said, her eyes filled with all the love, gratitude and pure peace that the moment deserved. Eragon's smile widened yet again.

"The pleasure was all mine, princess," he whispered into her ear. For once, it was the elf's turn to smile.

"Come on." The smile took on a mischievous edge. "Let us see if our flower has bloomed."

And as the two stepped into the brilliant sunshine – devoid as they were so rarely of any troubles or cares – a voice drifted into the air from behind them; "You know, I think I'll call him Arthur."

**AN: So, just the epilogue to go… and then on to the sequel!! It's called Burthr – extra love for the first person to figure out what it means ;)**

**I love you all, and shall answer any questions/credit any loveliness in the epilogue. Please feel free to remind me of any said questions/loveliness if need be!**

**Love Muchly x**

**PS. BookLovinWorm – it's fine, honey. I went through a Twilight faze – not everyone can understand that. Not even I can, sometimes. I didn't expect you to review them all… lol. Thanks anyway! Love you :) x**


	23. Epilogue

_Far away, she watches. _

_She watches as they laugh, and walk happily between the tents that billow in the soft summer breeze._

_She watches, a ghost between fabric walls and a phantom in their minds. _

_And as she watches, she smiles._

_Because she knows that it was all her work, and – _

Ahem.

_Because she knows that it is the work of her and Saphira, and – _

"Ahem."

_- and Katrina helped a little bit – _

"Hey!"

"I am trying to have an internal monologue."

"Internal being the operative word. If you don't want us to hear, be quiet!"

"_Fine_."

Silence.

"We did well, didn't we?"

The mouse squeaks in affirmation.

**AN: Oh. My. God. **

**IT'S FINALLY OVER! I FINISHED IT!!!**

**Thank you all so much for your continued love and support – especially these few very special people;**

**Musings Of A Shaken Mind, for keeping me sane;**

**Lilypads, for your amazing reviews (they made me smile, thank you);**

**T.R. Miles, for being the ONLY person to review in more than one chapter (I needed that – thank you);**

**And to… everyone who read right from the start to the end. I LOVE YOU ALL! Don't worry; it won't be long until the sequel (the name of which nearly everyone who guessed got right, but the first was Musings; extra love!)…**

**LoveMuchly xxxx**


	24. AN

**AN: Did I mention that I wouldn't be uploading Burthr (which, by the way, DOES mean 'Birth') until I get at least 350 reviews? No? Ok.**

**I won't be uploading Burthr until I get at least 350 reviews :) **

**(Not just because they are my crack, but also because that'll give me a little time to write it :P)**

**Love you all,**

**Arya xxx**


	25. I thought I'd make a few things clear

Allow me to make two things perfectly clear. Number one - everyone is entitled to their opinion. Yeah, I couldn't care less if you think my story 'sucks', or what the hell you think about me. I really don't. But one really bugs me is _cowardice_. Yeah. So if someone were to not sign in, and leave me a (really quite thoughtless and stupid) review about how much they hate my story under a FAKE NAME - that would really bug me. You know, if you'd left it under a real name I would have contacted you (very politely, unlike you) and told you that yes, you were being rude, but I didn't mind and what was it that you didn't like about my story?

But that wasn't the case. Hence why I am leaving this - very controlled, if I do say so myself - message to you, you idiot. If anyone has anything to say about this, keep it to yourself - you might be the next one to be singled out by idiotic abuse.

Oh, and the second thing I wanted to make clear: "justme667" really - and I mean _really _- needs to learn how to spell.

Nuff said.


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